I came home, after a very long day. It began too early, and as far as I was concerned ended much too late. I expected my family to be waiting for me, making demands. “Mom, I’m hungry. When’s dinner?”
“Tess, have you seen my legal briefs? My notes on the whoever case?”
“Mom, where is my lab? I need it for tomorrow!”
“Do we have a glue gun?”
“Where is the stapler? Why is it never where it should be?”
Imagine my surprise when I walked in the door to a dark empty house. Not a single person (I use the term lightly.)
I took a deep breath, relieved. I had some time to get everything together. Then a rebellious spark went off. No. That night I didn’t want to cook. Let Max. Let one of the kids, they both know how. Or maybe we could go out to a restaurant…
I dropped my purse by the front door and sauntered into the living room. I pulled off my jacket and draped it over the couch. I kicked off my high heels. I stretched out on the couch, enjoying the moment of peace. I noticed a photo album sitting on the coffee table. Thinking Max had been sentimental about the past, I sat up warily and regarded the book. If there were pictures of the children, and me I would feel joy, and relief. If Elizabeth Guerin were featured I would feel unbearable agony. Was it worth not knowing?
I flipped open the book and frowned. The girl in the pictures looked like Elizabeth had, but the fashions were modern. I realized that this was my son’s album of memories, dedicated to Alana.
A breathless spell passed over me. I felt seriously ill. Had I raised him so poorly that he could do this to Paula? By this, I meant what his father had done to me. More specifically I mean could he marry a woman he did not love? I realized I was getting ahead of myself- Eli was only about nineteen but…
But Max had been in love with Elizabeth when he was that age. He had started a photo album when we were seventeen and she fell in love with Michael. He made it to try to say good bye. It never worked.
Was that Eli’s intention? I wondered. Someone I couldn’t get the picture they had made out of my head- like their parents, but not like. A wave of guilt crashed on my head. It was my fault. I was the reason Eli had started a photo album. I had separated him from Alana. And though I could pretend all I wanted I needed to fix things.
NO, fix things is the wrong term. I needed to give him a chance to fix his own life. Not that there was something wrong with it- with Paula. The problem was the road not taken. Alana would always symbolize what might have been.
I had seen Max wonder for the past thirty-one years. I knew how debilitating not knowing could be. I wanted better for my child. I didn’t want to see him wander, lost and forlorn around the town. I didn’t want to watch him watch with longing eyes while the girl he would always consider his ‘true love’ kissed another.
I wanted the fairy tale, the happy ending. I wanted to watch him ride off into the sunset with Alana.
The admission startled me, honestly I’ve always hated anything to do with Elizabeth. I feel threatened by her. No, not by her. I can’t picture her physically hurting someone, though she did give Max a black eye. I am threatened by how Max feels for her…
So I decided to bring Alana and Eli together so they could talk things out.
How exactly would I do that, I wondered? I started with a phone call. I dialed the Guerin’s phone number. “Hello?” The voice was breathless.
“Is Alana there?” I asked.
“Lemme check.” The boy said. “Allie!”
“Hello?”
“Alana? It’s Mrs. Evans.” I heard the dial tone. I sighed. I knew I had a long way to go.
My opportunity came three days after that. Brandon, Daisy, Jacob and Emma were hanging out at our house. Actually Brandon and Emma were making out while Daisy and Jacob watched a movie. Alana knocked on the door. She wouldn’t look at me.
“Alana?” I inquired.
She looked up. “Mrs. Evans.” She said coldly.
She had learned that tone from her mother. Elizabeth used that tone on me from the beginning- it was one of the things I hated the most. But now, hearing it again I thought, ‘This is the tone she will use when someone threatens my son.’ So I refused to let it bother me. “How have you been?” I asked cordially.
“Fine.” She was still looking at me suspiciously.
“I’ll go get Brandon- he and Emma are sort of attached.”
Alana’s eyes widened. “Good luck.” She said ruefully.
“I’ll need it.”
She laughed lightly. “That you will- I can come back later.”
“That’s okay, why don’t you just come in now? You can wait inside.”
She came in reluctantly. “Are you sure you’re-,”
I understood what she was trying to say. “I won’t go nuts on you.” I promised dryly.
She tried to pretend that wasn’t what she meant, but I knew better. I slipped into the room where the movie was playing. Eli had joined his little sister and her friends- I think he just wanted to keep an eye on Jake Valenti. “Eli?” I said. “There’s someone here to see you. By the door.”
“Thanks Mom.” He got up and I crossed my fingers.
I watched as he walked into the hall. I wondered what would happen- and if it would be immoral to eavesdrop. Deciding it wasn’t I inched to the door. I heard her say, “Here for Brandon.”
“Oh.” Eli sounded disappointed. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“I know.” She sounded embarrassed.
“I missed you.” He said, slightly tentatively.
“I thought it was all for the best- you know?”
“No I don’t.” He sounded so confused. I winced.
“You- the letter I got in New York that summer.”
“I didn’t send a letter- you told me not to.”
“But I got one.”
“It wasn’t from me.”
“Then you didn’t-” She stopped speaking abruptly. I peaked out. They were in each other’s arms. I smiled a little. I was sure they would work out everything else- Paula, Alana’s artist ‘friend’, even their fathers. All they needed was a little time and space.
I shut the door softly and tiptoed behind the couch- not that the kids noticed anyway. I sat down at my kitchen counter, poured myself a cup of tea and thoroughly enjoyed having a clear conscience.
Get your own Free Home Page