Chapter Twenty-Nine Sassy
twenty-nine SASSY
Sassy felt sick with shame. Here she was, curled like a pathetic snail, too chicken to answer the door when her best friend knocked. All along, Sassy had been so happy when Marion promised she would always be there, but now Sassy was hiding from her. What kind of friend was she?
But there was so much in her head. How could she explain it all to Marion?
Tom could call her father a good man a hundred times, but Sassy wasn’t convinced. She kept trying to bring happy thoughts to mind about him, how he looked when he laughed, how proud he’d been of her in that meeting about the strip malls. But the pretty pictures didn’t last.
Jim Rankin was a fraud. And his deception had made Sassy a liar.
Marion’s father, the quiet, humble plumber no one talked about, was the real hero. Marion had told Sassy about her father’s “episodes,” those dark times when the war found him again and dragged him under. Sassy had sympathized, saying how awful that must be, and how sorry she was for it, but inside, she couldn’t deny feeling just the tiniest bit smug. Until today, Sassy’s dad had been the hero, and he’d never suffered “episodes” to embarrass her. She hated the competitive edge she felt when they discussed their fathers, but she couldn’t deny the satisfaction her father’s status gave her.
Until the reading of the will.
Marion’s father was the true hero, and he was still suffering for it. Jim was just a man who had taken the credit then killed himself.
Just a few days ago, Marion had come to Sassy in her time of need, bearing muffins and encouragement, and had called Sassy’s father “complicated.” A loving father and a war hero, she’d said, giving Sassy a sense of family pride. That had given her what she needed to emerge from her deep well of grief.
Now she couldn’t face Marion. At least with Tom, he’d been lied to in the same way Sassy had. He’d thought Jim Rankin was his friend, but Sassy didn’t buy that. Friends didn’t lie to one another.
“I don’t know what to say to Marion,” she’d said to Tom.
He encouraged her to tell her everything she was thinking, but Sassy couldn’t see that happening. She was too scared, too humiliated to broach the subject, even though she knew Marion would help her with it.
By ignoring Marion’s knock, Sassy had put their meeting off for tonight, but there was no way she could avoid her best friend forever. What should she do, then? Apologize? Beg for forgiveness? But what for? Her own ignorance of the truth or her cowardice to face her friend?
She hugged her knees closer to her chest, feeling very small. And ashamed. And alone.
In the morning, she stayed in her apartment until she heard Marion’s door lock behind her, then the mechanical swoosh of the elevator door. When Marion came home later that afternoon and knocked again, Sassy hid. Another day down, another night of feeling guilty. She did the same the next day and night, though her heart broke a little more every time she heard Marion at her door.
On the third morning, once she was sure her friend was safely out of the building, Sassy extricated herself from her couch. She couldn’t stay home today. The day promised to be as dull as watching paint dry, but she couldn’t ignore it. She’d been delaying the meeting, put off by the long bus ride to the lawyer’s office to sign papers regarding her father’s estate. Once she arrived, there was all the paperwork, then the torture of Mr. Godfrey droning on and on, advising her about money and legal stuff and whatever else. Honestly, she missed most of what he was saying and almost fell asleep halfway through. Finally done there, she climbed back on the bus then got off early, reminding herself to stop and pick up some much-needed groceries. On her walk home after that, she reminded herself that she had better get some laundry done. She was running out of clean things to wear. Oh, a bath would be nice, too. It was a relief to finally get home. Just inside the building’s front door, she checked her mailbox, which was empty, then stepped inside the elevator.
“Hey!” Marion rushed in just behind her, flushed and smiling. “My goodness! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for days now. How are you doing?”
Sassy gave a weak shrug and tried to look happy, but she was uncomfortably aware of the beads of sweat popping up on her brow.
“Oh, nothing much. I’ve been out, you know, working and”—she lifted the envelope in her hand—“and dealing with lawyer things. You know. Stuff like that.”
Marion looked unsure, and Sassy felt even more embarrassed. Not only was Marion smart, she was a psychiatrist. She would easily see right through her flimsy excuses. She poked the button for the fifth floor a few times, trying to convince herself that if she could get up there fast, she could disappear again and avoid the conversation she knew was coming.
“How are you doing?” Marion asked again. It was not just a passing question. She really wanted to know.
Sassy really didn’t want to tell her. She kept her gaze on the elevator buttons. “I’m fine. How are you?”
The elevator chugged past the second floor. Only three more to go.
Marion frowned at her. “What’s going on, Sassy?”
She forced a laugh as they left the third floor behind. “Nothing! Everything’s cool. I’m just, you know, getting by. Getting used to being an orphan and all that.”
At last, the fifth floor. Sassy practically tumbled out the door.
“Sassy, I—”
She couldn’t stand it. She thought she might explode from all the tension inside, so she wheeled on her friend. “Let it go, Marion. I’m fine, okay? Don’t flip your wig. I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
She bugged out down the hall, aware that Mr. Snoop’s door had clicked open. Sassy wanted to die. He was listening. Probably the whole floor was listening. All she needed now was for the other neighbours to come out and ask what was going on.
“Sassy,” Marion said behind her.
Sassy kept her gaze straight ahead and aimed for her door. No way would she let Marion see the tears streaming down her face. She pulled out her key as she approached, opened the door, and stepped inside… But she couldn’t close it over Marion’s planted boot. Reluctantly, she met her friend’s furious gaze.
“What is happening?”
Sassy closed her eyes. “I… I can’t talk to you, Marion.”
“What? Why? What did I do? And why are you crying?”
“You didn’t do anything.” Her face burned. “I just don’t know what to say to you.”
Marion’s jaw dropped. “You aren’t talking about the other day, are you? What the lawyer read? No. You can’t have been thinking about that all this time.” Her lips tightened. “Step aside. I’m coming in.”
Before she could object, Marion strode past her into Sassy’s living room and spun around to face her.
“Do you want wine?” Sassy asked, walking directly to the kitchen. She kept her gaze anywhere but at Marion, who looked pissed. She’d never seen Marion pissed before. She was pretty intimidating that way.
“I don’t know. Will we need wine?”
“I’m getting two glasses.”
She poured, and when she returned to the living room, Marion was inspecting one of her paintings, hands behind her back. She didn’t turn around. She was forcing Sassy to start the conversation, and Sassy had to admit, that was only fair.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Marion faced her, but she wasn’t smiling.
Sassy held out her full glass, her face warm with shame. Marion glared into Sassy’s eyes and made no move to take it.
“I really am sorry,” Sassy said. “I’ve been acting like an idiot. I’ve been afraid to talk with you about what happened.”
Marion’s eyes narrowed. “So I was right. You’ve been hiding from me.”
“Yes.”
Marion accepted the glass and took a long drink, never looking away. “Why?”
“I’m so embarrassed, Marion. Everyone was going on about what a great man my father was, when all the while it was really your father. I bragged in front of you, and I probably said mean things without meaning to, and it all came back to hit me in the face. I just… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to talk with you about it.”
Marion sipped again. “First, why on earth would you be embarrassed? This has nothing to do with you and me. I mean, yes, we heard some surprising things—you could have knocked me right over when I learned about my father. All my life, I’d never known. Just like you.”
“Weren’t you furious at him for lying to you?”
Marion inhaled. “Let’s sit. We should have been talking about this from the start.”
The weight that had been pulling Sassy under for days was gone the moment they sat together on the cherry-red couch. What had she been thinking, questioning how Marion would regard her after all those revelations? She should have trusted their friendship.
“I spoke with my father about it that day,” Marion said, setting her glass down. “Yes, I was angry. I felt like I didn’t know him at all, and I’m thirty-one. But everyone has a right to their own secrets. There are reasons they’re called secrets, and we don’t always get to know them. Finding out the truth about my dad was upsetting, but it didn’t change who he is at all. And yet, when he told me his reasons for what he did, I saw him differently. I’m proud of my dad, but I was proud of him before. So the only reason I had to be angry was that he hadn’t told me his secret. And there was no reason he should. It was his.”
Marion always had such a beautiful way of thinking of things. Sassy envied her that. Every time they finished a serious conversation, she felt like she understood herself and everything around her a little better. Marion was a better person than she was. A better friend.
“The thing is, Sassy, it’s never been a competition.”
Marion also read her mind sometimes. That was a little alarming.
“Our fathers reached an agreement, and they were both satisfied with what they got out of it. They were friends, not competitors. Just like you and me.” Marion exhaled. “On that note, I wish I could have met your father, just so I could thank him for paying for my education. He changed my life! He made it possible for me to follow my passion and find my purpose. My parents never could have afforded med school.”
Tears welled in Sassy’s eyes. “I’m glad he did that. He owed your dad. And it was the right thing to do.”
Marion shook her head. “Your dad didn’t have to do what he did, writing that letter for the will. I think he suffered much more than my father ever did over the arrangement. He would have felt guilty for carrying on with the illusion, but he respected my father too much to challenge their agreement. He set the record straight without embarrassing my father. Don’t you see that was a final kindness in a long line of kindnesses?
“And he did so much more,” Marion continued. “He paid for Hank Moore’s apartment, he helped the Romanos when they came to Canada, and I’m fairly sure he did something for the Levins as well. He’s the reason I’m living in this building, so he’s the reason I met you.” She drained her wineglass. “Your dad was a good man. He just didn’t want anyone to know it.”
Sassy let all of it sink in. As usual, Marion was right.
“As soon as I found out, I wanted to apologize for my father,” she said, “but I didn’t know how. I felt sick about his lie, and I was so embarrassed. But I get it now. I’ve only embarrassed myself. So now, what I am really apologizing for is not trusting our friendship enough to talk with you about it. That was a pretty stupid thing to do.”
Marion nodded, smiling through a sheen of tears. “Yes, it was. Apology accepted.”
“Oh, good. Because I have missed you so, so much.”