Who Loves Her? (16 page)

“Skylark Motel.  Best skyline in the America’s best little town.  Can I help you?”

“Oh, hi Mom
.  Yea, it tasted great.  I….well…Mom…I’ll think about it.  Love you, bye, getting another call on line two.”

Someday I might tell her we don’t have a line two
.  I wish I could be a better daughter.  In the shock of the accident everyone thought it would be a great idea if I moved in with Mom since she lost Dad and Anna all in one year.  They kind of acted like: “Well, she lost two and you only lost one, so you should suck it up and take care of your mother like Anna did.”

Anna and Mom were twin control freaks and so it was a natural for Anna to swoop down and fix things aft
er I had made a mess.  I confessed to Bob that I really thought Anna enjoyed that time when she had all the power over the decisions.  Control-freaks always like a crisis when they can call the shots.  Mom was a mess, and it was a great match.  Everybody thought that since I lost Bob and the boathouse in the whole financial fiasco of it all, that it would be a natural fit for me to take over for Anna.  What they failed to realize is that I was nothing like Anna.  In every way, Anna and I were complete opposites.  While I was Satan from hell Susan, she was Angelic Anna from Alexandria.  She took care of my Mom, but I created chaos for the poor old soul.  As Anna enjoyed knowledge and achievement, I enjoyed midnight trellises and a school day spent at the lake.  The only thing Anna and I did share was our admiration and enjoyment of Bob, and the deep regret and sadness that comes from early loss.  Losing Anna was more than simply losing a daughter or sister.  After Dad’s death, she was the glue that held the remaining pieces of our family together.  As my mom suffered and struggled with her loneliness, and I reflected on my shame, Anna continued in her forward movement in life.  With each step she took forward, she pushed Mom in front of her as she pulled me from behind.  When she and Bob were gone, life was left to me and Mom.

When my dad died, my mother grieved terribly
.  The truth is that you never know just how your presence affects the overall family until you are gone.  My dad was a good man.  He was active and busy.  He worked very hard at his job, but I hated the way he cowed down to Mr. Chevrolet himself.  Bill, Harris’s dad was the opposite of my dad.  He was flashy with his money and showy with his cars.  My dad was a waterskiing demon, but he preferred his old F-150 truck with the dent over the top than to waste money on a shiny new one.  How many times did I hear his laughing voice as he told one of his friends about the time I tied the rope on his truck the day after he bought it.  A spanking brand new truck with a rope hanging off the passenger side that he did not see.  As he backed out of the driveway, he heard a terrible, creaking groaning sound that is made when metal is being bent against its will.  My dad and I just looked at each other in shock.  Before he made it around the truck, I remembered the piece of rope laying on the ground by the tire, the other end tied at the door, and I closed my eyes to wait for the inevitable angry animal wail that was sure to follow.  Slowly, my eyes inched open as the angry sound did not come.  In shock I peeked into the rearview mirror and saw him standing there, hat in his hand as he scratched his head.  When he saw my frightened little face, he smiled and I relaxed.  I spent years apologizing for what turned out to be one of his favorite childhood memories.

My mom
, on the other hand, was not so amused.  Dad did not tell her about it until Anna noticed it one day and came screaming into the house, “MOM!  Someone is in trouble!”

I tried to stop her, but it was too late
.  She was dragging my mom by her hand to the truck to show the big disaster she had discovered.  As usual, she began to wring her hands and fret on and on about what could have happened to the brand new expensive truck.  She lamented on the cost to have it repaired, and at one point even discussed trading it in to buy a new one.  One evening as she talked of going to the police to report the vandalism, I could stand it no more.  I decided to spill the beans that I was the family vandal.  Miraculously, my dad recognized the look in my eyes and before I could get it out, he admitted to destroying his own truck.  My mother clucked like an old hen, but thankfully she let it drop with a quick admonition about carelessness and it was over.  That night laying in my bed waiting for sleep, I vowed to always love my dad, no matter what.

When Dad was alive, we always thought my mom was the one in charge of things
.  She made sure we all had clean clothes, that there was food in the icebox, and that our shoes all fit for school.  Homework was a nightly ritual that she ran as long as she could.  As best I can remember, she and Anna continued homework night throughout high school, but to my shame I revolted in the ninth grade.  By high school, of course, I had begun my own homework time with Bob.  When Dad died, it was a shock to see how small and weak my mother really was.  All that time I had this belief that my Dad was more like another one of us kids rather than one of the mature adults.  He worked, of course, but he spent the majority of his time on Lake Carlos throwing up waves with his skiis.  When my Mom died I learned really quickly who the true foundation of the family was.  With him gone, we all fell apart.  Thankfully, we had Anna to pick things up and support Mom, but yes indeed, it was a strange sight to see Mom taking orders from her own children.

I remember watching Anna whispering to Mom during the funeral
.  Straightening her bed sheets as she helped her into bed that evening, and then he marveled as she was up at five a.m. making our breakfast the next day.  Anna moved effortless into her place.  Before my Dad was gone, my Mom kept things going.  After he died, Anna took over.  She helped my Mom to survive day by day, and she tried desperately to control my wild ways night after night.  She even guided me into life with Bob.  Had she tried to force me with Bob, of course I would have revolted and run into the other direction.  Anna was effortless in her admiration for Bob in a way that made me proud and her seem wise.  In the end, I think she knew this family needed Bob to survive.

When we lost them, it was the worst
.  If we had believed losing Dad was a bad dream, then the loss of Anna and Bob was a nightmare.  Nevertheless, after it happened, I did exactly as I had seen Anna do when Dad died.  With Anna gone, no longer able to care for my Mom, I tucked her into bed at night and made breakfast for her each morning. I lasted two weeks as the adult.  The pain was already suffocating enough.  I’m not lying.  There were days I didn’t think I was going to be able to keep breathing.  Other than my dad, Bob was the only person to ever understand me, and without him the world was a strange hue of dark purple, no matter how many blue skies would appear during the summer.

Bob was the one who
first rescued me out of my “wild-thing-to piss-off-my-mother” phase.  The therapist in the book said that with Anna being such a perfect child match to my mother, there really wasn’t any other roles for me to play.  I thought I was just having a party.  I dropped out of school for a bit and ran around in black t-shirts with rock bands my parents used to ignore.  AC/DC, Iron Maiden.  I thought I was the coolest thing in Alexandria.  My sluggo friends and I used to just sit in the basement of their parent’s house and smoke weed or drink beer first thing in the morning.

My biggest regret was that I broke my dad’s heart in the entire process
.  There was no way to take me fishing and listen to all the problems.  He had Mom chewing his ear on one side and the sheriff bringing me home on the other.  I even tried to run away, but that didn’t last long.  I can imagine that all unraveled when I was in ninth grade.  I was the freshman from hell.  Bob was a year ahead of me and pretty clean cut.  He was in the same grade as Anna because he’d been held back a year.  All the girls adored him back then, and for some reason, his eyes lit up on me in third period Algebra.  I was pudgy and had pink highlights in my greasy black hair.  I found the coolest Army boots in some thrift store and used to put them up on the desk in front of me.  Mrs. Climer would yell at me every period to put my feet down.  I was good at Algebra; it just made sense.  Bob sat next to me, and he saw that I never took notes or did any homework but aced the tests anyway.  So one day, after class, I’m dragging my fake leather coat off of the chair and he stops me.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at this stuff
.”  I shrugged, trying to pull a cigarette out of my pocket.”

“You’re pretty when you’re not acting like a thug from the Rocky Horror Picture show.”

“Your fat when you’re not trying to act…oh wait, you’re not trying to act, are you?” I shot back.  He looked up at the ceiling and then grabbed my coat as I tried to walk by.

“Look
.”  He looked up at the ceiling and then waved his buddy on.  “I need to pass this class and nobody else is as smart as you here.  He had these piercing blue eyes that could not be ignored, and he was not acting all macho like his buddies.  Can’t lie.  A football player asking you for help with a face that makes any girl weak at the knees.  Don’t care what they pierce or tattoo.

“I’ll mess up your pretty boy reputation with the football team
.  If you haven’t noticed, people are staring.”

“Look, I just need to pass
.”  He just kept ignoring my tough exterior.  “You meet me after practice?”

“I’ll check my day timer
.” I looked at the skull patch inside my jacket.  “Says I’ve got dinner with the President and so I can’t make it.”

“
Damnit, you’re just like my asshole dad.  I just need some help.”  He turned beet red and stomped off.  It hit me like a two-by-six between the eyes.  We all knew about his dad, the scrawny little turd who drank too much and beat Bob’s mom.  That’s why Bob was held back a year.  It got so rough when Bob turned thirteen he missed about half the school year either beating his dad or helping his mom talk to the sheriff.

“I’m sorry,”
I whispered as he spun around in frustration, and he nearly broke his leg tripping over the desk.  Mrs. Climer squealed as a pile of the tests from third period flew into the air.  He bolted up and almost ran out of the room.  All I could do was go up to her and apologize.  “It’s my fault,” I whispered in shame.

I picked up the tests for her and then walked out the back door of the school
.  Tears were running down my face.  I was going to go try and get high to soothe the pain, but it just didn’t make sense.  I wondered why I had to act like such a bitch.

I remember Bob’s mom in church one day when she couldn’t find enough pancake make-up to cover everything
.  I was always a loud mouth.  “Gosh, “I exclaimed, “I wonder what the car looks like that she ran into!” I was pointing in her direction when my dad grabbed me by the arm and dragged me from the church.  Truly his face was smouldering in fury, and he told me that he was deeply ashamed at my terrible behavior.  It was the only time my Dad spanked me after church.

I ended up wandering the streets all that day,
alternating between anger and sadness.  Admittedly, I knew what was wrong with the woman’s black and blue face, but I also wondered why no other adults seemed to come to her defense.  I could not understand why we were politely ignoring something so destructive and allowing the loser guy to beat up his wife.  To this day, I don’t understand why people pretend not to notice when some woman is being beaten every night, but I am just a motel clerk at the Skylark.  Analyzing domestic abuse was probably something best left to the experts in the field.

Still stinging from the shame and isolation of my behavior, I planned to skip school and get high
.  Instead, I skipped school and ended up sitting in the bleachers to watch practice.  I think Bob saw me there, but he made sure to not pay any attention.  Again, my shame was tweaked, and I knew that I deserved exactly what Bob was dishing out.  Between me acting like a bitch about helping him in school work, and the snarky crap I pulled where his old mother was concerned, the guy really should have gone to his grave never having spoken to me again.  In desperation, I skipped class most of the day, but went to Algebra just so I could apologize to Bob.  I sat down next to him, but he got up and moved desks.  I felt more tears forming, but I was stuck in class because the tardy bell rang.

Leann wasn’t a perfect student, but she was my friend when I wasn’t an asshole
.  She remembered how we played back in fourth grade and she always tried to see that part of me when I had all the black t-shirts.  She sat down between Bob and I and passed me a note.  “You look like shit.  What’s with the eye make-up?”

“F
uck you,” I wrote back.

“Get a grip
.  Lighten up and I’ll figure out how to talk to Bob.” Mrs. Climer must have seen us and asked, “The square root of forty-nine is…”

“Seven,”
I blurted.

“Very good, now see that you pay close attention
.  We all need to do well on the final to pass.”  She spoke like there was an extra hole in her nostril.  A slight whistle came out with everything she was saying.  She turned around to write more things on the board and I half stood up while she wasn’t looking, and spun around on Bob.

“Look, I’m sorry I acted like such a douche
.  I’m an asshole.  I’ll help with your…”

“Susan
!  Please sit down.  Honestly!”  I tried, but my butt spun strange in the chair and the entire desk tipped over and crashed.  The class all busted out laughing.  Bob kind of grinned, but he hopped up to help me while Mrs. Climer tried to restore order.  Bob whispered to me as I brushed my hair from my face and turned to face the board. “Do you always make such a ruckus whereever you go?” I had him laughing as he sat behind me.  Ah, the feel of his big, strong hands as he helped me up was absolute safety.  The gaze of those gemstone blue eyes was mesmerizing.  But the sound of his kind, gentle voice, deep and low as he teased me, well, I suppose it was love.