Darling Rose Gold, page 13
“When I was in your tummy?” Anna asked.
“Even before then,” Kim said.
Anna looked confused, but didn’t comment.
Sophie piped up again. “Anna thinks she saw me and Billy in Mom’s tummy.” Everyone started to laugh. “She said there was a Toys ‘R’ Us in there too.”
“No, I didn’t,” Anna protested.
“Yes, you did,” they all chimed back. They sounded happier now, laughing and playful. This was the kind of family I’d wanted.
“I’m going to show these guys how to make waffles over a fire,” Dad said. He was as thrilled as the kids. I imagined myself wedged between Sophie and Billy Jr. on a log in the dark, telling the scariest ghost stories I could come up with. We’d stay up all night, eating and laughing. Dad would put me in charge of grilling the burgers.
“I’d love to join you,” I blurted.
Kim did a double take. Even Dad was at a loss for words. Sophie and Billy Jr. watched their parents.
Anna clapped her hands and yelled, “Can Rose come? I want to sit next to her in the car!”
Dad smiled weakly at Anna. “We’ll see, honey.” He turned to me. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”
I nodded. That meant no. Crap—had I screwed everything up? My heart pounded. I shouldn’t have invited myself like that, but they’d made the trip sound so fun. I could picture myself next summer, not alone on my couch in Deadwick with a sad stack of movies, but nestled in a sleeping bag with my siblings snoring quietly beside me in our tent. I hadn’t wanted something this bad since Disney on Ice when I was ten.
Kim began clearing the table. “Anna, why don’t you take Rose to the living room and show her the DVDs? How about we let her choose the movie for tonight?”
Anna pulled me by the hand to the living room and showed me her collection of Disney movies. My fingers brushed the spines of the films I’d watched tirelessly for the past two years: Peter Pan, Mulan, Dumbo. I pulled the last title from the shelf.
“I hate that movie,” Anna said bitterly.
“Why?” I asked with surprise.
She looked at her feet. “The girls at school say I have Dumbo ears.”
My heart hitched.
I squatted to her height. “You know, Dumbo gets to fly at the end. He’s the coolest of all the elephants.”
Anna glanced up at me, doubtful.
I tucked her hair behind her ears, which were big, but not as big as she probably feared. She watched me, waiting. What was I supposed to do, tell her to love her flaws while I saved every spare dollar to get rid of mine?
“What’s your favorite Disney movie?” I asked.
“Frozen,” she said immediately.
I gasped. “Mine too! Let’s watch that, and I’ll braid your hair.”
Anna shook her head, letting her hair cover her ears again. “I don’t like braids.”
No, you don’t like that they show your ears. I knew every trick in the book.
“Oh, come on, you’ll look just like Anna and Elsa!” I said. “Tell you what. If you hate the braids, we can take them right out. But let’s see if you like them?”
Anna thought about it, then nodded. “Deal.”
While the rest of the family cleaned up dinner, I braided Anna’s hair like my life depended on it, even weaving a purple ribbon through. I’d practiced on my wigs countless times, but had never braided a person’s hair before. Now I knew all my practicing had been for this moment. When I finished, the braid was perfect. Anna ran to the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror. I held my breath. Seconds later, she darted back into the living room and hugged me tight. I grinned, resting my cheek on the top of her head and basking in the simple joy of making another human being happy.
Once the dining room was cleaned, all the Gillespies settled on the couch to watch Frozen together. Anna informed me I was sitting in Daddy’s spot, but Dad said that was okay and he wanted to try a new spot tonight. I beamed, thankful he was including me in his family.
Billy Jr. and Sophie didn’t enjoy the movie as much as Anna and I. They were on their phones the whole time. Sophie sighed when Anna sang along to “Let It Go” at the top of her lungs. I thought she was cute. She played with her braid the entire time.
After the movie, Kim told the kids to get ready for bed and led me upstairs. She gave me a brief tour of the second floor: the master bedroom and bathroom; Sophie and Anna’s room; Billy Jr.’s room; and the guest room, where I would sleep.
The guest room had a queen-sized bed and pastel yellow walls. The bottoms of the walls had ducklings stenciled onto them. Kim noticed my gaze.
“This used to be the nursery,” she said, pulling an extra quilt out of a trunk for me. “We haven’t gotten around to repainting yet. God, is Anna six already? Now I’m embarrassed.” She forced a laugh. I waved her off, said I loved it.
She draped the quilt along the foot of the bed. “In case you get cold.”
A whole-body ache washed over me. I missed being mothered.
Kim pointed to a bathroom between my room and Billy Jr.’s. “If you want to wash up, there’s face cleanser and toothpaste and stuff in the medicine cabinet.”
Anna rushed into the room and jumped on the guest bed. “I want to sleep with Rose!”
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Kim scolded her. “You’ll see Rose tomorrow. Right now we have to let her sleep. She’s had a long day of driving.”
Anna pouted. “But—”
“No buts, no cuts, no coconuts,” Kim said, pointing to the door. “Quit stalling.”
Anna sighed the same way Sophie had earlier. She marched to her room.
Kim followed Anna, starting to close my door behind her. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I grabbed Kim’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for everything,” I said, meeting her eye so she’d know I meant it.
“Sleep tight,” she said, squeezing back.
Kim headed into the master bedroom and pulled the door behind her, leaving it a bit ajar. I washed my face in the bathroom and thought about our old town house. We had one bathroom. The Gillespies had three. Each one was nicer than ours. I’d always thought it was my fault Mom and I didn’t have any money; if she didn’t spend all her time taking care of me and carting me to doctors’ appointments, maybe she could have hung on to a job. But I’d had it all wrong. Mom had used me to mooch off of Dad and our neighbors. She only worked odd jobs—cleaner, in-home caregiver, bookkeeper—if we were in danger of coming up short on that month’s mortgage payment. She chose for us to scrape by.
After I finished brushing my teeth and turned off the faucet, I heard murmurs coming from Kim and Dad’s room. I stepped to their door and peeked inside. They were both in the bathroom, door closed. I tiptoed into the room and stood as close to the bathroom door as I dared, straining to listen.
“You can’t expect them to act like she’s their best friend,” Kim was saying. “She’s a virtual stranger! And inviting herself on our family vacation? Where did that come from?”
“I know, honey,” Dad said. “I know it’s a big change, but I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“Doesn’t she have any friends?” Kim asked. “Tell her to take a trip with them.”
Silence for a few beats.
“I’ll talk to her,” Dad said. “But I can’t hang her out to dry.”
The bathroom door started to open. Alarmed, I backpedaled as fast as I could out of the bedroom and darted back into the guest room. My heart felt like it would pound straight out of my chest. Their conversation continued at the same volume, but I couldn’t hear the rest of it.
I quietly closed my door and climbed into the big, cushy bed. I lay like a starfish under the sheets, stretching my arms and legs wide. I’d never slept in anything but a twin bed. Maybe once I had enough money to fix my teeth, I would save up for a queen for my own place.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t that upset. True, Kim wasn’t taking to me at lightning speed, but Dad was. He’d invited me here and let me hang out in his house, and now he had defended me to his wife. We were already creating an unbreakable bond. I’d have to work to win Kim, Sophie, and Billy Jr. over the way I had Dad and Anna. I needed a story, an ironclad reason, why I had to go on that camping trip next summer. After a whole week of bonding, they’d see I wasn’t an outsider at all. I was the same as them. I listened to the Gillespies get ready for bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking.
* * *
• • •
The next morning, Dad and I went for a walk around the neighborhood before I had to hit the road. I had work the following day and needed to get home.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while. I was still thinking about what I’d overheard the night before. I had to bring up the camping trip at some point, to give him another chance to invite me. My new family was about to make all these memories we’d reflect back on in thirty years. Our first family vacation—I had to be there.
We rounded the corner. Dad’s house came back into sight.
“When can we hang out again?” I asked.
“We’ll figure out something soon,” Dad said. “You know where to find me now.” He winked. I gave him a small smile. One day I’d be able to grin with confidence, put all my perfectly straight teeth on display.
“Rose,” he continued, “you haven’t told me about your friends. Do they all live in Deadwick?”
All? “Well, my best friend is Alex. She goes to school in Chicago,” I said. “But things haven’t been great between us.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to memorize every inch of the neighborhood—the old man shuffling to pick up his newspaper, the kids skateboarding in the street, the pet walker trying to control seven dogs. “We’re not seeing eye to eye on some stuff.”
“How long have you known her?” Dad asked.
“Since we were kids,” I said. “She was my neighbor in Deadwick before she left for Chicago.”
“That sounds like a pretty strong relationship, to make it that long,” Dad said. I shrugged. “Maybe you should sit down and level with her,” he said. “Friends like that are less common than you’d think.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
Dad seemed satisfied.
I turned to him. “Do you think Kim likes me?”
He feigned surprise. “Of course she does. Why would you ask that?”
This was my chance. “I, um, overheard you guys talking last night. She doesn’t want me to come on the camping trip.” I stared at him, but he avoided meeting my eyes.
“Rose,” he said, touching my shoulder, “don’t read too much into that. You and I have had months to get to know each other, but the rest of my family met you yesterday. This is a lot to take in, but they all loved you. I’m sure of it.”
A small smile formed on my lips. “I love them too.”
He still hadn’t invited me. He wasn’t going to, I realized.
This was just like the Disney on Ice show.
When I was ten, I saw a poster at Walsh’s for Disney on Ice. For weeks I begged Mom to take me to the show in Chicago. I’ll stay in my wheelchair, I promised. I won’t bring my wig. I’ll do whatever you say. I imagined meeting Ariel in real life and getting one of those spinning light-up wands like Alex had. Maybe I’d even get to talk to the other kids.
Finally, Mom relented. We picked a date—May 10, 2004—and she bought the tickets, or told me she did anyway. I’d already planned to buy her a “thank you” gift for taking me; I would get her a Mrs. Potts key chain for her car keys. Every day for six months I counted down the number of days until our show.
The morning of May 10, an hour before we needed to leave for Chicago, I began vomiting and couldn’t stop. I tried to hide it from Mom, but she caught me with my head in the toilet. I’m so sorry, darling, she said. We’ll go another time.
We never did.
Dad and I kept walking, almost to my van in his driveway now. I had to go on this vacation. I could not leave Indiana without a promise. I racked my brain, frantic. I remembered Kim’s look of pity at dinner the night before—the single moment that she’d truly been on my side. Maybe, like everyone else, the Gillespies liked the old me better.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mom said.
I stopped walking, so he stopped too. “The thing is,” I said, “I’m sick.”
Dad tilted his head, trying to understand.
I took a deep breath. The story came tumbling out so rapidly, it felt like the truth. “I’ve been having night sweats and fevers and stuff the past few months. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then I thought I should go to the doctor just in case. So I did, and he wanted to do a biopsy. They removed a lymph node from under my arm and sent it out for testing. The doctor called me with the results two days ago. I have Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
Tears sprang in my eyes. For a moment, I imagined I really was sick. I could almost feel the night sweats and fevers, could conjure up the thin line of the doctor’s mouth as he delivered the news.
Dad stuttered a little, the color draining from his face. I hated to lie to him. “That’s . . . It’s . . . God, just, how—horrible. Rose, I am so sorry.” He gathered me into his arms. I shuddered with relief. How comforting to be held, to feel like you were home.
“What stage?” he asked.
“Three,” I said, gripping him tighter.
My mother’s encyclopedic knowledge of illnesses had finally become useful. She’d once had a doctor perform a biopsy on me, insisting I had all the symptoms of someone with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The results came back negative, of course.
“I start chemo in two weeks,” I said, “but who knows if that’ll work? That’s why I want to go on this camping trip so much. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have invited myself, but I’ve never been on a family vacation before. Visiting you this weekend was my first trip out of state. There’s so much I still want to do. So many things I never got to because, well, you know the story.”
Dad hugged me even tighter, petting my hair. I could have stood there, on that sidewalk with him, forever.
“I just want to go on one trip,” I whispered, tears streaking my face. “What if I don’t . . . ?”
Dad shushed me. “Hey, you’re going to be fine, okay? Look at me.” He tilted my chin up so our eyes met. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
I closed my eyes and let him rock me. Together, together, always together, together always. I grinned and sniffed. I’d have to start researching hiking boots.
We stood there until I felt someone else’s gaze on me. I opened my eyes and peeked at the Gillespies’ house. Standing on the front stoop, watching us, was Kim.
“Everything okay?” she called to us.
Better than okay, Kim. Everything was fantastic.
11
Patty
At four o’clock sharp, Thanksgiving dinner is served. After I set the final dish on the kitchen table, I step back and examine my handiwork. I may have sweet potato in my hair, but “triumph” is still the word that comes to mind.
In the center of the table is a roasted turkey. Surrounding it are half a dozen dishes filled with stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, broccoli casserole, cranberry sauce, and roasted butternut squash. Apple pie and chess pie stand at the ready in the fridge. I have made all of it on my own, without burning a single dish. The kitchen is a mess, but I’ll worry about that later. I have prepared a feast. My love for my daughter is laid out on the table.
I straighten the linen napkins I bought at TJ Maxx and light the votive candles. I’ve been so busy preparing this meal that, for a few hours, I haven’t thought about the pained expression on Tom’s face, the irate round of applause at my back when I left Walsh’s. Afterward, I had to take a bus to a grocery store two towns over to buy our food. The whole humiliating experience has been playing on a loop in my mind for the past week. I would have to find a new Tom, befriend a new nurse at the hospital. My legs tremble when I think about never talking to him again.
“Dinner’s ready,” I call to the living room, where Rose Gold is singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” to Adam.
She joins me at the table, Adam tucked into her arms. She kisses both his cheeks before putting him in his bassinet. Her eyes bug out when she takes in the spread. “You outdid yourself,” she says, smiling.
I wave her off, though we both know this is a big deal. Not known for my cooking prowess before prison, I served whatever Stouffer’s family-sized dishes were on sale. Rose Gold could never eat them anyway.
She reaches for the mashed potatoes, but I stop her. “Before we eat,” I say, “I think we should each say something we’re grateful for. You go first.”
Fine, so I’m hoping for more adoration.
Rose Gold thinks for a moment. “I’m thankful for Adam.” She beams. “He’s going to change my life.”
Adam?
Did Adam prepare the immaculate feast in front of her eyes? Was Adam offering to pay half her rent? All he does is poop and refuse to sleep through the night.
The miracle of life is a lot less interesting when it’s someone else’s miracle.
I glance over at the baby in his bassinet. He kicks his legs and smirks at me, as if to remind me what an adorable leprechaun he is.
I squeeze Rose Gold’s hand tight. “He already has.”
“What about yours?” Rose Gold asks.
“I’m thankful for you.” I meet her eye. “You and second chances.”
She holds my gaze, then turns away, uncomfortable.
“Let’s eat,” I say, breaking the silence.
