Through the Heart (19 page)

“You’re a saint and a pain in the ass at the same time.” Neil turned to Timothy and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to him?” I demanded. “You should be apologizing to me.”

Neil sighed heavily. “No. You mean well, Nora, but this time you’re a little confused. I think you should be apologizing to Timothy.”

I hated when Neil was right.

I turned to Timothy. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. Then he said, “I’m think I’m going to go.”

“You don’t want to get dinner?” I asked him. “Maybe talk about things?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight. I need to think about things.”

“See you tomorrow?”

He just smiled at me. And then I knew what he meant about knowing when a smile meant no.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

H
e didn’t come back for the whole rest of the week. And Neil took a few days off too, so I was alone in the store. Well, alone with all the customers, but I couldn’t exactly talk to the customers about this.

So I called Tammy, and she came over, and I told her what happened. She just looked at me, shook her head, and said, “I don’t know why you didn’t tell him in the first place.”

It wasn’t exactly the response I was looking for. I was looking for something more sympathetic. Don’t ask me why I thought I was going to get that from Tammy. What I loved about Tammy was that she wasn’t like that. But I somehow forgot, and so I responded by demanding, “Why didn’t you say anything to me about it?”

“You’re not gonna put that on me—no, sir,” Tammy said shaking her head.

I tried again. “Okay, then just tell me what should I do now?”

“You’re not gonna put that one on me either,” she said. And she escaped soon after that. Tammy was not that kind of girlfriend. When it was a problem I had created by myself, she left me to solve it the same way.

I hadn’t told my sister about Timothy, so I couldn’t turn to her. The crazy thing was that the person I probably could have talked to about it most easily was Neil, and I kept waiting for him to come in, but he didn’t. And finally he called and told me that he might not be in for a few days. Neil never took that many days off, so I figured he was avoiding me too. I felt like I had the plague.

What happened was that the time alone gave me a chance to experience what life would be like after Timothy left. Maybe you think I’d know exactly what it was like because I’d been living it before. But that’s not the same at all. Before, I didn’t think I had a choice. This would be after I’d had a chance at something different and turned away.

Except Timothy hadn’t left yet. I knew because I called the motel every day to find out if he was still there. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday—no sign of him, but he was still checked in. I thought about going by his room; believe me I wanted to, but something stopped me.

Saturday, as always, I got up early to drive my mother to Kansas City, and when we got back, she retreated to her room. I tried reading a book. I tried cleaning the house. I tried playing solitaire on the computer. I couldn’t settle into anything. Finally, I gave up. I went upstairs, knocked on my mother’s bedroom door, and told her I was going out for a bit. Then I got in the car and drove to the motel Timothy was staying at, out along the highway. I parked in front of his room and walked up to the door and knocked. I could feel my heart thumping as I waited for him to come to the door. But there was no response. I knocked again. Still no answer. I couldn’t look in the window because the drapes were drawn.

I went to the office to see if I could get some change to use the pay phone and call Timothy on his cell, though I usually avoided the office because one of the reception clerks was a guy I’d gone to high school with. Every time I went to visit Timothy and he was there, he leered at me.

Sure enough, he was there when I walked into the office. Before I could even say anything, he said, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

I thought that was strange.

“I came to see Timothy Whitting,” I said.

Then I realized what had happened; I knew before he said it.

“He checked out this morning,” he told me.

I knew how bad I looked from the pity in his eyes as he said it. I felt my face flush.

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Thanks.”

And I turned around and left.

I got back in my car and drove back to my mother’s house. Then I went inside, climbed the stairs, undressed, and got into bed. It was the middle of the afternoon, but all I wanted to do was sleep.

And I did. I slept through the afternoon, the evening, and I was still asleep when my sister arrived the next morning with the twins.

Actually, I didn’t even wake up when she arrived. I didn’t wake up until she was standing over my bed. She didn’t even knock. At least I don’t think she did. All I know is that the first thing I remember is Deirdre standing there saying, “God, I can’t believe you’re not up, Nora. You’re getting so lazy.”

I cracked open one eye. “It’s Sunday. And I’m sleeping in,” I told her. “I’m not even sure if I’ll get up at all.”

“Of course you’re going to get up. I need you to look after the twins for me while I go run some errands.”

“Not today,” and I rolled over and turned my back to her.

“Come on, I’m serious,” she said, poking me in the shoulder.

“I’m serious too.”

There was a little pause. I wondered if that might do it. But she was just taking a little breather before the real attack.

“I drove all the way down here, and now you’re not even going to help me?”

“If you wanted help, you should have called me and asked.”

“What, because you’ve got so many other better things to do? I have to book you ahead of time now? Now you’ve got a boyfriend, or whatever, and your family means nothing?”

My sister hadn’t been down in the last month since Timothy came back. So my mother must have told her what little I had said. And at that moment, Deirdre sounded exactly like our mother. Usually guilt worked like a charm with me, but it was as if some magic cloak had descended upon me, and I felt no guilt whatsoever.

“All I know is that I’m not getting out of bed, and I’m not watching the twins today, and if you want me to watch them for you in the future, you’re going to have to call and ask me.”

“I don’t think I like what having a boyfriend is doing to you,” my sister said.

“That’s funny. I was just thinking I like what it’s done very much.”

“Okay, come on now. Get up and come take care of the twins.”

I closed my eyes.

“Nora, I’m warning you.”

I wondered what she was warning me about?

“I can’t believe this. You’re seriously not going to help me out here?” she demanded.

“That’s right. I’m seriously not going to help you out here,” I said, my eyes still closed. I felt so peaceful. I was waiting to see if anything she said changed my mind and made me want to get up. So far, not even close.

“I think you must be the most selfish person I know.”

Nope, I thought. Colder. Waaay colder.

“You do all this stuff for Mom, and you won’t do this one little thing for me?” she tried again.

“I’m rethinking the stuff for Mom,” I said.

“What is that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of doing something stupid.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘stupid.’ ”

“As long as you don’t leave her. Mom depends on you for everything.”

I had to open my eyes and look to make sure it was still my sister standing there. It was the exact opposite of what she had been saying for years. And I decided to point that out to her.

“That’s a bit different from what you’ve been saying for three years. You’ve said the whole time that I don’t need to be here and I’m just playing the martyr.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I think
you
were right.”

“And I’ve changed mine, and now I think you were right.”

“You can’t leave. Do you hear me, Nora? Fine, don’t help me with the twins, but you have to stay here with Mom.”

“I’m not going to do anything right now except go back to sleep. So unless you want to stand there and watch me sleep . . .” And I closed my eyes again.

I guess she didn’t, because she left. And I did go back to sleep, minutes after she left the room. I slept most of the day. I got up to use the bathroom, drink some water, and then I just went back to sleep. I slept right through the night, without a single dream.

 

 

 

 

Y
ou’d think after all that sleep, I would have woken up easily, but I was deep in sleep when the alarm went off, and I was still groggy when I got into work. I felt like I could have slept another week. I had just made myself a cup of coffee, and I was taking the chairs down off the tables, when Neil came in. I hadn’t seen him since the last time I’d seen Timothy—would probably ever see Timothy, I realized.

“Morning,” I said.

“What happened to the ‘good’ part?” Neil asked.

“Just trying to be honest.”

He looked more closely at me. “You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks, Neil.”

“No, what I mean is you look tired.”

“I
am
tired,” I said. And that was the truth. I wasn’t just tired; I was exhausted. I had slept for thirty-six hours, but I felt like I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for weeks.

“Why don’t you leave the chairs for a second and sit down?” he suggested.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. And we need to finish setting up to open.” I pulled down another chair and centered it under the table just the way Neil liked. I was amazed he had done so well with letting people come in and actually use the chairs, and not having to push them back into perfect alignment. At first whenever someone left the store, he had gone over to the table and pushed in the chair and aligned it—and he’d taught me to do the same—until Timothy pointed out that it might make customers a little uncomfortable and less likely to come in and stay next time. And, miracle of miracles, Neil listened to him.

Now Neil pulled out the chair I had just perfectly centered and pointed for me to sit down.

I sat.

He took the other chair off the table, and he sat down next to me.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.

“Timothy’s gone.”

“Timothy’s not gone.”

“Yes, he is,” I insisted. “He’s gone. I went by the motel on Saturday, and he’s checked out. He didn’t even say good-bye.”

“Did you ever think that maybe he didn’t say good-bye because he was coming back?”

“No. He’s gone,” I repeated.

“You’re really optimistic today,” Neil observed ironically.

“I’m just being realistic. I didn’t tell him the whole truth, he got upset, and he left. I would have thought he’d at least say good-bye, but maybe I deserved it. I don’t know.”

“And maybe he’s not gone,” Neil said again.

“Why do you keep saying that? I told you he checked out.”

I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice, but it only seemed to amuse Neil. He said, “Well, I guess I’m saying that because I can see him parking the car out front, that’s why.”

I jerked around and looked through the window, and Neil was right. Timothy had just pulled into a space in front.

I turned back to Neil. “You knew,” I accused him.

“Not only did I know, I told him to take off for a few days to give you a chance to think about things and see what life might be like without him.”