|
You didn’t!” Nichole gasped, her normally
pale face flushed with indignation and a bit
of shock, though she tried hard not to show
it. “Mother would kill you, if she found
out! Not to mention your kids!”
“Well, I don’t intend to tell her or them,” Nadia
responded practically. After months
struggling with depression over Monroe’s
death, and a lifetime of living according to
everyone else’s expectations, she wasn’t
about to back down. “And don’t you go
blabbing about it, either!”
“Hah! As if!” Nichole snorted, sounding too piggish for
it to be an accident. “I can just hear it.
Hey Mom, kids, guess what? Nadia put a want
ad in the paper for a male sex toy.”
Nadia’s eyes narrowed, deciding between a chuckle and a
frown, before settling on a tight smile and
warning jab at Nichole’s chubby arm. “It
doesn’t say that.”
“It might as well!” She reached over and grabbed the
local newspaper sitting on the cluttered
counter, flipping to the back Personals
column. “Unattached middle-aged woman
seeking healthy, unattached, straight
non-tattooed male over 21, for a short-term
monogamous sexual relationship. Attach
recent picture. Non-smokers, non-drug users
only.”
“And?”
“Are you nuts? Every pervert from here to Cleveland is
going to come out of the woodwork! No decent
guy would even think about giving you a
call.”
“I didn’t list my number,” Nadia retorted, playing
obtuse, and pushing back an unruly tuft of
mousy-blond hair that fell into her eyes.
“Oh, stop being a smart ass,” her sister growled, “You
know what I mean.”
This time Nadia did chuckle, though it was more for
Nichole’s benefit than her own. “Stop
worrying. I’ve done the marriage thing —
twenty years of it. Now I want something
different. Something that doesn’t involve
commitments or obligations.” She stared out
the kitchen window. “Monroe was a great
husband, but we weren’t exactly wild … if
you know what I mean. And I want that: to
get hot and bothered. Is that so hard to
understand?”
Nichole looked at her exasperated. “You’re talking
crazy! Hop into bed with strangers? You? Can
you hear yourself?” She leaned against the
counter peninsula, sympathy in her eyes. “I
know you’re lonely. I know you’re hurting. I
see it in your face, but there’s better ways
to deal with grief. You had a great
marriage. So why ruin that memory …. Casual
sex? It’s beneath you, Nadia. It’s beneath
what you had with Monroe.”
Nadia turned aside, fighting her tears, and carelessly
brushed back her loosely tied back hair —
which was unkempt as usual. Eight months
grieving Monroe’s death from prostate
cancer, and the pain still ripped at her
insides. The void wouldn’t go away. How
could it? Nothing could replace him. Sex
wasn’t the answer — she wasn’t stupid enough
to think it was — but wanting anything more
reeked of disloyalty and sacrilege.
The ad wasn’t about tomorrow or the day after. It was
about finding a way through today; a way
through the emptiness. Easing the emotional
numbness, if only for a few minutes’ romp in
bed, was better than what she now had. Lust
wasn’t the noblest of emotions, but it was
the most basic. What better way to find her
way back into the living, if not through
such a universal and primal urge?
“Why not use a dating service, or one of those
introduction services?” Nichole was saying.
“That would have made more sense … and be
safer. It’s like you threw away your brain!”
“It’s not like I didn’t think about it … but it feels
like putting myself on an auction block and
waiting for the highest bidder. Not an
appealing thought.” And, though she wasn’t
about to tell Nichole, listing her likes and
dislikes, hopes and dreams, dug too deeply
into her psyche and made her too vulnerable.
“It’s not like you don’t have a say in these things—”
“— posting a photo online isn’t my idea of having
control,” Nadia interrupted with a definite
edge in her voice. “I’m not going to be put
on display for men. My way, I stay
anonymous. I choose. And that’s what I
want.”
Nichole’s astounded face said it before she did. “Talk
about a double standard! You want to do the
leering — like a peeping Nadia — then act
affronted at the idea of a man treating you
the same way.”
“It’s not the same for women.” Tactfulness wasn’t
Nadia’s strong point. “Men think with their
johns’ anyway … they’re not as picky about
where they stick it.”
Nichole blanched at her sister’s unaccustomed
crudeness. “What’s happened to you? It’s
like I’m talking to a stranger. Where’d all
this …” she pursed her lips, struggling for
the right word, “this lewdness come from? If
Jordan heard you ….” Nothing else needed to
be said. They both knew how Nadia’s oldest
son would react.
“Gee thanks. Now I’m nuts and lewd? Make me regret
telling you, why don’t you!” She took a deep
breath, and mentally backed off. Winning
Nichole’s cooperation was essential to her
plan, and aggravating her was
counterproductive. “I’ve got a few
candidates … and I could use a safety net.”
Coffee spewed out of Nichole’s mouth. “Candidates?” she
sputtered, wiping her chin off with the back
of her hand. “Is that what you’re calling
them?” Shaking her head, she grabbed a paper
towel and wiped up her mess, muttering under
her breath. “A mighty fancy term for pimping
yourself …. Candidates ….” Nichole’s pitch
rose up a level. “How can you do this?
You’re a married woman with grown sons!”
This wasn’t going well.
“Nichole, I’m not married. I’m widowed.” Using her most
reasonable voice, she continued, “It’s not
like that. I’m not planning on exchanging
money for sex and I’m not planning on a
bunch of partners. Get the sleazy prostitute
stuff out of your mind. Think Hollywood
romance. Woman meets gorgeous guy, has a
whirlwind romance, they marry. Lust fades,
they decide to part ways, and divorce,
blaming it on irreconcilable differences.
I’ll be doing the same thing. Only in my
case, I’ll skip the marriage part.”
To Nadia’s relief, her sister’s face calmed, and a bit
of a twinkle lightened her eyes.
“What’s the difference? My way, I won’t have to pay
lawyers for the privilege.”
As Nadia chuckled at her own joke, Nichole shook her
head in exasperation. “Nadia this isn’t a
joke. You’re talking about sex with
strangers. Of all people, you know the
consequences of that! How many people around
the world are infected with HIV? Isn’t it
close to forty or fifty million? What about
Hepatitis C? For your last grant, didn’t you
tell me that close to one in ten people have
it? Those are Russian roulette kind of
odds.”
“I’m taking precautions. I’ve got it covered.”
“What? You mean condoms?”
“Ugh!” Nadia made a terrible face at the thought.
Condoms, though effective at preventing the
spread of most diseases, were repugnant to
her. “I didn’t mean literally! No. I’ve got
some basic parameters. Candidates have to be
abstinent for at least the last three weeks,
and agree to an up-to-date complete STD/HIV
screening, with liver function tests. It may
not catch every nasty, but it should come
close.”
The incredulous look on Nichole’s face ridiculed
Nadia’s plan without a word leaving her
mouth … but that wasn’t about to stop her
from saying it anyway. “Hah! That’s your
solution? And you really think that the kind
of guys who’ll answer your ad — guys with
one thing on their minds — will jump through
hoops just to bed you? They can surf any sex
site on the web and find partners who don’t
give a hoot about that stuff.”
“And that’s where they should go. I’m looking for a guy
who’s a bit more substantial. I don’t want
one-night wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am stuff. I
want something longer-term … a couple months
or so, but without all the expectations.”
Nichole wasn’t giving up. “You’ve got a lot of friends
and contacts. Why not make yourself
available that way?”
“Yeah. Right.” Nadia couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of
her voice. “I can just see it. My boys can
set me up with one of their friends’
parent’s. Or, I can walk up to an old friend
and say, ‘Hey, I’m in the mood for some wild
and crazy sex. Interested?’ I don’t think
so. I’d like to keep my reputation intact,
if you don’t mind.”
“None of this makes any sense, if you ask me.”
“I’m not looking for permission, Nichole. I just need a
safety net.”
“And how am I supposed to be that? I’m not watching, if
that’s what you mean.”
“Nichole!” Nadia gaped. “That’s not what I meant! I
want to do this smart. You know, do a few
online chats, meet in a bar for a drink….
But I don’t want to go alone. It wouldn’t be
safe and it wouldn’t give me a quick escape
if I needed it. So …” she pleaded, “will
you?”
There was no changing her mind, and Nichole saw it in
her eyes. With a heavy sigh of exasperation,
she leaned in close to Nadia. “I’m totally
against this. I want you know that. It’s
insanity!”
“Okay, okay. You’re totally against it. I get it. So
will you?” Nichole was wavering. Nadia could
sense it.
“Why are you so desperate? You’re only 41! You’ve got
plenty of life left in you …. You don’t need
to do this to get a man!”
Tears shimmered in Nadia’s eyes, but she impatiently
brushed them away. “Haven’t you heard
anything I’ve said? I don’t want a husband
…. I’ve done that.”
“But why this? I hear what you’re saying, but it
doesn’t make sense. You’re not telling me
something ….”
Nadia looked away, tightening her jaw, but it wasn’t
enough to stop the tears from spilling down
her cheeks. “I’m tired of crying.”
There was more to it, so Nichole waited, not saying
anything.
“Monroe was the only one I’ve ever slept with, you
know. And these last few years,” Nadia
grabbed the paper towel still clenched in
Nichole’s hand and wiped away the tears, “he
never touched me.”
“It was the cancer —”
“— It was more than that. It was like he stopped
wanting me.” She turned and stared at her
sister, struggling to say the words she
never voiced to anyone else. “I felt …
undesirable … ugly; whatever you want to
call it. I tried different things … you
know, to get him excited … but it didn’t
matter. He just wanted to cuddle. That’s it.
Nothing more. It was like I repulsed him
sexually …. Can you imagine how that felt?
How it would make you feel?”
Nichole could only mutely shake her head. She had had
no idea.
“So I want to do something stupid …. I just want to
feel desirable again … like an attractive
woman. Is that really so horrible?”
Despite everything inside her screaming out against it, she
couldn’t. “Alright, alright! But if I do
this … if I do this … I get final say on the
guy.”
“As if that’s going to work!” Nadia snorted, wiping away the
last of her unwanted tears. “We have
completely different tastes.”
Nichole twisted her mouth into a smile but it didn’t
reach her eyes. “Yeah, ain’t that the truth!
But I’m not talking taste. It goes deeper;
to gut instinct. If I feel it, I need
absolute veto power.”
Nadia opened her mouth to refuse, but stopped, seeing
the stubborn look on Nichole’s face.
“Either I get the veto, or I won’t do it. If I feel
something’s off, you’ve got to dump him — no
if, ands, or buts. If not, you can forget
it.”
Nadia stood and crossed her arms, skeptically. “I don’t
know. You could decide to veto everyone ….”
“Although it might be tempting, I promise. I won’t do
that. Just the creepy pervert types.”
“And, uh, how exactly would you be able to tell that?”
“If he makes my skin crawl.” Nichole rubbed the hairs
on her arms to make her point. “Goose bumps
never lie.”
“You’re not giving me any choice?”
“No. Not if you want my help.”
Nadia sighed, wanting this conversation over. She
didn’t need or want Nichole’s approval, but
it was going to be hard enough following
through without having to go to the bar
alone. Without Nichole, she might very well
back-out, despite her bravado.
“Um-kay.” It was a reluctant agreement.
“Okay,” Nichole repeated with a smug half-smile.
“You’ve got yourself a bodyguard.”
“Sex-guard is more like it,” Nadia teased.
Nichole ignored it. “So how are you planning to keep it
from the boys?”
Nadia sniffed. “They’re rarely home. And when they are,
I won’t have the men around.”
“And how exactly is that gonna work? They’re home
nearly every weekend — the same time your
boy toy’s are gonna want to hook up with
you!”
“It’ll work out. I’ll make it work out.”
“Then you better come up with a better plan, otherwise
there’ll be an awful lot of explaining to
do.”
Nichole, shaking her head, put on a pot of
water, while Nadia slipped out of the
kitchen, dodging newspapers and magazines
strewn around the floor. Keeping up a
confident front until she was slightly out
of sight was exhausting, and there was no
way she could keep it up indefinitely. Not
that she wanted to.
The old rumpled couch in the living room was just
the place to hide. Head in her hands, she
collapsed against one of its fat cushioned
sides. Convincing family and friends that
she was doing alright was nothing more than
a charade for their sake, and to be
perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure they were
buying it anyway. But here and now, without
an audience, there wasn’t any reason to
pretend. Half her life was spent with one
man. He was her life. How was she supposed
to get over that? How could anyone expect
her to?
She flipped on the news, grimacing as the reporters
rehashed another Iraqi attack, and discussed
the shortage of American troops. It made her
sick inside … especially the unspoken fear
that they might reinstate the draft, putting
both her boys in danger. Even in her nearly
year-long emotional and mental haze, that
fear kept her coming back to the news …
vainly hoping the war would be coming to an
end.
“Hey, Mum!” Talon greeted loudly, as if on cue,
bursting through the side door, stomping off
clods of mud sticking to his cleats. A
freshman on a soccer scholarship at the
local college, weekend visits were better
defined as a revolving door between soccer
practice and a very active social life.
Other than home-cooked meals and laundry,
her place was little more than a pit stop.
Today was no different. “I’m jumping in the
shower, then taking off. I’ve got a date!
Did you get my laundry done?”
Nadia looked up and nodded, knowing he wouldn’t bother
glancing her direction.
“Don’t forget to mow the lawn!” she reminded him,
knowing she should be sterner with them …
but finding herself thankful, instead, that
at least they were here, and not overseas
like so many other boys and girls their age.
Chores went two-ways, but more often than not, his went
undone. Like the typical self-involved
teenager, he was more focused on the things
going on in his head, than worrying about
his mother. His clothes would be done; they
always were. After a life-time of mothering,
he knew she would take care of it, as she
took care of everything else — as she took
care of his Dad.
“I’ll do it, but it’s gotta wait. I’m late.” He kicked
off his cleats near the door, and started
for the stairs. Like the living room,
miscellaneous toiletries — unopened
containers that never quite made it to the
bathrooms, discarded socks, hand-towels on
the way to the upstairs laundry, and
whatever else — lay on the stoop and steps,
shoved to the sides where no one would trip
on them. It didn’t used to be like that …
but that was another lifetime.
“The grass isn’t getting any shorter,” she said dryly.
“It’s spring. It has to be cut a couple
times a week. You know that.”
“Isn’t it Jordan’s turn? Ask him to do it!”
“I asked you.”
“Okay. Okay,” he snipped. “I’ll get on it tomorrow. So
where’s my clothes?”
“In your laundry basket.”
“Could you pull out my purple polo and black Dockers? I
should’ve been there by now. Amy is going to
kill me for being late again.”
He was half-way up the stairs — Nichole’s eyes boring
holes into the back of her head from the
kitchen — and Nadia couldn’t find the words
to tell him. Between the two boys, he ought
to have been the easiest to talk to … but if
dating felt like betrayal to her, how could
she expect him to see it any differently?
Leaning against the stoop watching Talon taking the
last two steps in one long stride, it was
now or not at all. If she didn’t tell him,
and he, or god-forbid Jordan, caught her
with a man …. She couldn’t finish the
thought. It was better to forewarn him, as
tactfully as she could.
“What would you think of me dating?” Not exactly
subtle, but not bad for her — certainly
better than, “I’ve advertised for a sex
partner, so make sure you’re not around when
I bring strange men home.”
Talon stopped mid-stride, his face clouding. Whatever
his plans may have been, they melted into
the background in light of her blunt
question. Disbelief and skepticism, combined
with something else she couldn’t quite
identify, He stared at her disbelievingly
before plodding down a few steps, and she
plodded up a few, to meet in the middle. His
lips barely moved. “Mum?”
She had betrayed him — it was in his voice. Expecting
this reaction didn’t make it easier to bear.
What could she have been thinking? Hadn’t
Monroe always told her it was better to ask
forgiveness afterwards than to seek
permission beforehand? So now he wanted an
explanation, and there wasn’t one; at least,
not one she felt comfortable revealing to
her son.
“It’s been eight months.”
“Yeah!” he whined plaintively. “Only eight months. How
can you even think about … about dating?”
“I’m lonely.” That much was completely true.
“Lonely?” From the amazement on his face, Talon found
that incomprehensible. “Me and Jordan are
here almost every weekend! And you talk to
your sister for hours on end. Isn’t she here
now? How can you be lonely?”
“Talon … I know it’s hard to understand, but … without
your dad ….” This was gut-wrenching — and
without all the sordid details!
Having a sudden and overwhelming need to sit, she
settled down on the step, avoiding his gaze.
Taking a couple deep breaths didn’t ease her
anxiety, though it gave her a couple extra
seconds to gain her composure. “You and
Jordan park your stuff here on the weekends
and clean out the frig, but I don’t get to
see you … talk to you. Not really. You’re
playing with your friends, hanging out with
girls, playing soccer, and whatnot — or,”
she added wryly, “in Jordan’s case, at this
or that church activity. I’m alone whether
your stuff is here or not.”
“It doesn’t feel right. It’s too soon.” He knew she was
right, and she could hear it in his weak
protest.
“Shouldn’t I get to decide that?” She tried to say it
with just the right about of pleading and
chiding, but he still looked agitated: his
hands clenching and unclenching, and that
tell-tale tic twitching at the side of his
mouth. Silence hung between them, before he
asked, “You tell Jordan yet?”
She shook her head somberly. “Not yet.”
He slipped down and sat on the edge of the
stairs. “Dad wouldn’t have ….”
Her furious glare stopped the words on his mouth. Talon
couldn’t possibly know how Monroe would have
reacted if she died, instead of him, and it
was wrong to pretend he did. “Don’t you even
think of going that route! I knew him a lot
longer than you, and I don’t have a clue
what he would have done! Crud! I couldn’t
have guessed in my wildest dreams what I
would do … am doing! It just happens. Life
goes on … I’ve got to go on, regardless of
how hard it is.”
Talon ran a distracted hand through his kinky black
hair — a gesture so reminiscent of Monroe
that Nadia had to look aside. Tears,
ever-present and always ready to fall,
glistened on her lashes, but she refused to
give into the memory and sadness. This
wasn’t the time for crying.
Talon’s attitude made an abrupt shift. As though he
couldn’t stand to be near her, he jumped to
his feet and looked down at her, his lips
thin and eyes accusing. “You’ve already got
someone lined up.”
Taken aback, she just stared at him. “What?”
“You heard what I said! You’re not asking me if it’s
okay to start dating … you’re telling me. So
how long has it been going on? Did you
bother waiting until Dad died, or were you
sneaking out on him?”
Nadia was too shocked by his accusation to say
anything.
“Talon! That’s enough!” Nichole rebuked sharply. Her
expression was severe as she strode towards
the stoop and fixed her gaze on Talon. She
seemed unaware that she had her teacup in
her hand. “How dare you accuse your mother!
You’re making an ass of yourself!”
Pale and trembling from Talon’s unjust accusation,
Nadia struggled to her feet and stared up at
her son, who stood a good foot taller than
her. “Why … I mean … where did that come
from? Why would think such a thing?”
“Does it matter?” Nichole retorted, glaring at Talon
who was conspicuously avoiding her gaze. “He
has no right to talk to you that way.”
Talon thought otherwise. Although looking somewhat
shamed by Nichole’s rebuke, he wasn’t
backing down. “Well? Were you cheating on
Dad? Well? Were you?”
“Talon …” she said softly, pleadingly, “I loved your
dad. I would never, never, do anything like
that. I … I’m stunned you’d even … I mean,
where’d you get such an idea?”
His tight face slackened, his lower lip trembling
slightly before he bit down on it, hard. He
believed her … and it meant the world to
him. “Dag, Mum! You made me think ….” He
sounded so much like her little boy again,
that she grabbed him, and pulled his head
down to rest on her chest, running her hands
comfortingly through his hair. “You haven’t
started dating yet, right?” he mumbled,
unable to let his fears completely go.
“No.” Thank god she could offer him that little bit of
reassurance! “I just thought … well, it felt
like ….”
Not usually at such a loss for words, she
kissed his forehead and stepped away, moving
down the steps.
“What your mom’s trying to say is that she needs some
male company again.” Nichole stepped onto
the stoop and linked arms with Nadia.
Though grateful for Nichole’s support, she needed to do
this alone. “I can talk for myself,” she
said, disentangling her arm, but staring at
Talon, pleading for his understanding. “I
loved your dad. He’s the only man I’ve ever
loved … other than you boys. So don’t worry.
I’m not looking for a replacement, just some
companionship. That’s all.”
Talon didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I’ve got
to get ready…. Mum?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll take it slow, right?”
“Slow?”
“Yeah. You know. No rushing to remarry or anything.”
If he was seeking reassurance, that was an easy one to
give. She gave him a small smile. “Sure. I’m
in no hurry to remarry … and to be honest, I
doubt I ever will. So, no worries, um-kay?”
Her reassurance was met with a faint, dejected smile
before he turned away. Part of her wanted to
call after him and say anything he wanted to
hear … but she couldn’t. It would be lies,
and lies wouldn’t fill her emptiness any
more than it would reassure him.
With that announcement done — a small accomplishment in
which she found little satisfaction — the
sisters stared at one another. One of her
boys knew, or at least thought he knew, what
to expect of the men that would be
showing-up at her door. The sordid details
could be kept to herself … and to her
sister. That left telling the oldest, and he
wouldn’t be as easy to pacify.
Nichole must have read her mind.
“And he was easy,” Nichole was saying with a weary
shake of head. “Jordan won’t be.”
Nadia nodded somberly. “I know. I know.”
They sat quietly … somberly … lost in their thoughts,
with the sound of water trickling through
the pipes from Talon’s shower. Nichole broke
the silence first. From the wicked grin she
gave Nadia, she knew Nichole was up to
something. “Can I see the emails?”
“I thought you weren’t interested,” Nadia teased.
“I never said that. What I said was that this idea is
nuts and you’re nuts.”
“Ah, yes. I do seem to recall that part of the
conversation, now that you mention it.”
“So?”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
Nadia could think of a few good reasons … embarrassment
being at the top of the list, but she wasn’t
about to give her sister that kind of
ammunition to use against her. “Well … uh …
my son’s still here. I don’t want to risk
him seeing it.”
“In your study? Since when have your sons developed a
death wish, and go in there without
knocking?”
Nadia couldn’t stifle her chuckle. “Okay, okay, so my
sons wouldn’t dare walk in on us, but still
…. I’d feel funny doing that with Talon
around. Can’t we wait? — at least until
we’re alone in the house?”
Nichole put her hands on her hips, challenging Nadia to
refute her. “You don’t sound like a horny
woman to me. You sound down-right prudish!”
When Nadia didn’t take the bait, Nichole dropped her
stance and gave Nadia an affectionate hug.
“You don’t have to go through with this, you
know. Just because you posted a personals’
ad doesn’t mean you have to answer the
emails. The way I see it, sometimes it’s
enough to think about being wild … to play
with the idea of being one of those bad
girls you see on TV … or imagine yourself
acting completely out of character … to draw
attention to yourself. Thinking about it —
fantasizing — it’s harmless fun. That
doesn’t mean you have to do any of it.
“No one else knows about the ad, so it’s not like
people are daring you or you’re going to let
anyone down if you don’t …. Hell, you’ve
already taken this further than I ever would
have. You’ve had your jollies — and probably
enough photos to pant over for years to
come! — so there’s no pressure or hurry.”
Nadia opened her mouth to interrupt but Nichole wasn’t
done. “Wait awhile … enjoy the anticipation.
Isn’t that supposed to be the sweetest part?
When or if you’re ready — really ready — you
can take the next step.”
Exasperation raised Nadia’s voice level a half-octave.
“Stop it, Nichole! I don’t want to back out!
And I don’t want you to try and talk me out
of it. I need to do this.” Nadia knew she
sounded too vehement to be believable — a
reaction (or overreaction) to Nichole’s
way-too-accurate grasp of the situation.
Doing this would work! It would … it would!
And she would keep telling that to herself …
and Nichole … until she believed it.
“I want to be supportive,” Nichole was saying. “Really,
I do — but I don’t think you’re as ready as
you think you are. You need more of a
cram-it-down-your-anus attitude to pull this
off — not the embarrassed,
hide-in-the-closet attitude you’re giving
off.
“Think about it. You’re contemplating bringing
strangers home and sleeping with them, for
god’s sake, and you’re too embarrassed to
let me look at their photos?”
She put her tea on the side table, and sat on the
couch, patting the seat next to her
invitingly. “Come on, sit down.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Nadia joined her, hiking
up her way-too-big fat pants.
“All your life, you’ve set goals then worked like a
demon to achieve them. Everything’s been
about conquering something or someone. Well,
this time, you’re trying to conquer grief …
as if it’s a tangible thing you can
manipulate and force. That’s a bunch of
hooey! You can’t stop grieving just because
you’ve decided it’s time. Recovery is a
process … a journey, not a goal, and it
won’t work on your time-table. You can’t
schedule how long it takes to heal. It just
happens.”
“I know that,” Nadia responded, a bit defensively.
“Sure, you know it. Of course you know it … in your
head. But you’re not listening to it.”
Nadia leaned back into the cushions of her
couch and closed her eyes. Nichole was
right. “So what do you think I should do?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Nothing, huh?” Nichole made it sound so easy and
simple, but Nadia had never taken that route
in her life. Being passive wasn’t in her …
at least, it hadn’t been in her before
Monroe’s death.
Nichole squeezed her hands. “You know I love to
garden?”
“Uh huh.” Who didn’t? There wasn’t more than a couple
yards of grass anywhere on her half-acre
property – everything else was plotted,
planted, and mulched into submission.
“Sometimes, I have to stop digging in the dirt and let
my plants be, ‘cause, the more I fiddle with
them, the worse they look. All they need is
some rich soil and a bit of rain now and
then, and they’ll be blooming beautifully
all summer long.”
“You’re a gopher,” Nadia pointed out sardonically. “You
never leave your plants alone.”
“That doesn’t change my point.”
“Which is?”
Nichole slapped Nadia’s hand. “Like I said earlier,
stop being such a smart-ass! I’ll spell it
out for you. You’ve got a lot of rich soil
in your life: people who love you, a good
job, a nice house, and whatnot. Now you just
need some alone-time. Feel the sun on your
face some days, and let the rain wash away
your tears on others. You’ll heal and grow
without ever having to plan or conquer
anything.”
“You could be a Dr. Phil.” Nadia commented blandly.
“Not without a sex change,” Nichole retorted with the
same tone.
They burst out laughing.
“Mum!” Talon hollered from up the stairs. “Where’s my
polo and pants? I told you, I’m late. I
gotta get out of here.”
“Be right there,” she hollered back, turning to
Nichole, with a grateful look in her eyes.
“Thanks. You understand better than anyone.”
“It’s mutual, you know.”
“Yeah. It is.”
“Mum!” Talon hollered impatiently. “I gotta go!”
Nadia gave Nichole a pensive look. “Since we’re being
so open with one another, I’d like to share
a bit of what I’ve seen happening in your
life.”
Nichole pressed her lips together and turned away, as
though not intending to hear. “This isn’t
about me —” she started to say.
Nadia had no intention of being ignored. “— Your garden
is your lover, you know. I’ve seen it for
years – all that passion and zest for life …
wasted on plants. You’ve been hiding from
men ever since your divorce.”
“Ma!” Talon hollered impatiently again. “I need you!”
“I’m coming!” she hollered up the stairs, before
turning back around to Nichole, just as she
was slipping out the side door.
“Nichole!” she called after her
sister, wanting to say more … knowing she
needed to say more. The door softly clicked
shut.
|
