Twenty-Six—Ivy
W
hen we got back to our hotel Mama was resting—or pretending to—so I left Mia to fiddle with her camera and went to find my grandmother. She was in the gift shop buying trinkets, and she eyed me knowingly so I knew Mama had brought her up to speed on our tiff. I wandered around the shop until she was ready to pay, and then I added some chewing gum to her hefty pile of merchandise. While the cashier cashiered, I leaned my head against her shoulder, and she stroked my cheek. This told me that despite Mama being her beloved daughter, Geneva was not mad at me, which filled me with immeasurable relief. I could not bear being at odds with my grandmother.
We walked out of the gift shop and down to the quiet lobby where Geneva steered me to a sofa. She was wearing a flowy dress the color of a burnt orange and her long white hair was braided down one shoulder. When she sat down, she looked like she was holding court. She patted the cushion next to her, and I sat obediently.
“I’m not going home with y’all, Gran,” I said, anticipating a lecture.
“I know that, sugar plum.”
“I’m sorry. I’m still not ready to see Tim. And now I just plain don’t want to deal with Mama.”
She cocked her head, and I steeled myself for a talking-to. “You know,” she said, “some things just can’t be fixed, Ivy Lee.”
“I know. ”
“You can sling all that venom at your mama if you want to. But to what end? She can’t go back in time and un-have you. Not that she would ever do that.”
“I know.”
“Now your father, of course, was another story…” She sighed, making her silly face that broadcast the contempt for Daniel she kept buried just beneath her southern manners.
Daniel was another story. And though nobody had ever said the actual word abortion out loud—in my presence—I’m sure that would have been my father’s preference. He had been rather married with children at the time of my parents’ untimely coupling, after all. But of course, nothing screams happily-ever-after like a married big city lawyer in town for the weekend crossing paths with a cute-as-a-button waitress in the mood to party. It was surely a match made in heaven. Or at least a bar named Heaven’s Detour, which was close enough to Bonaventure Cemetery to cast the spell that produced me. I looked at my grandmother. “Why are we talking about this?”
She leaned in. “Because I know that you know that it’s 100% true that you got a bum deal,” Geneva said. “That is just a fact. But another one is this: the Universe, or God, or whomever you give credit to these days, missy, gave you me to help pick up the slack. And I happen to love you very much, as I have told you about twenty-two billion times.”
I smiled.
“And that might not be everything you deserve; it might not even be enough. But it is a lot more than some folks ever get.”
I picked up her hand and kissed it. “I love you, too, Gran. And it’s plenty.”
“Well, whether you believe it or not, your dreadfully flawed mama loves you as well.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Do you, really, Ivy?”
“I do. I’m just… ”
“I know, sweet girl.” My grandmother slipped her arm around me, and I settled into the place that was mine alone. There was no one around, but it would not have mattered. We were having a moment. Finally, she breathed deep. “Ivy, you may not believe this, but your mother is teaching you every day how to be better than she is, how to choose better.” Geneva pulled me closer. “And I promise you this: If you are lucky enough to get to my age and can look back at your journey with any pride, or success, or wisdom…you will have her to thank for much of it. Don’t forget that. Our mama’s examples—good or bad—shape us as women.” She lifted my chin with her gnarled finger until I made eye contact. “Our Bree is messy, that’s a fact. And Lord knows how my best hanky stays soggy with her tears—not to mention how my trigger finger itches whenever I see, hear, or think of your father.”
I nodded. I knew.
“But you, my darling girl, so overshadow all the nonsense those two have inflicted. You are the lovely gift that two foolish people gave each other. And gave to me. And gave to you. And that’s most important.”
I couldn’t see her anymore for the blur of my tears. But I could hear every word.
“Of course, you’re not coming home,” she said. “But you’re also not going to wallow in the outrageous love story of your silly parents. You…” she squeezed my chin. “You with your brand-new hair and pretty clothes, your creeping-back self-confidence, your never-gone kindness. You are going to live your life. Your very own life. Do you understand me, Ivy Lee Talbot? You are going to live how and where and whatever manner of life you want! Tell me you hear the words coming out of my mouth, granddaughter.”
I swallowed. “I do, ma’am”
“That’s my girl.” She squeezed my hand. “So, do you have a plan? ”
“I haven’t really thought much past just not going home. But I have applied at the hospital here. As an X-ray tech. There’s no openings, right now, but…”
“So…you really think you want to stay…here?”
I leaned my head back and sighed. “I don’t know. I like it here. But it’s awful spendy. And I’m just not sure if California is really big enough for me and Daniel.”
Geneva leaned back, too, looked at the ceiling. “Well, if it’s not, then maybe Daniel will just need to consider practicing law elsewhere, won’t he?”
I laughed and cried at the same time. Reason 9,012why I love this woman so much.
For the remainder of our trip, my mother was predictably cool to me but in a way that she thought only I could discern. She was wrong. Mia is excellent at picking up vibes. And of course, Geneva saw right through her meanness. Mama’s limited eye contact, not so subtle effort at keeping her distance, and talking around me, not to me, was absolutely not lost on anyone, least of all my savvy friend. On the way to dinner, Mama even started the car before I had fully closed my door, which Geneva lit into her for. She tried to cover by finding me in the rearview mirror and feigning contrition. I ignored her. I was settling somewhat comfortably into my mad , which surprised me, and the sillier Mama acted, the easier she made it.
In the midst of all these theatrics, she was extra friendly to Mia. But Mia, bless her soul, deflected Mama’s pandering by pulling Geneva and me into the conversation, or even better, starting a new one altogether. It seemed Mama had met her match in my friend, and Mia’s subtle display of loyalty meant the world to me. And if I’m being completely honest, it seemed to hurt Mama more than it peeved her. I knew this because my mother, for all her faults, is actually quite proficient at reading a room. It was a little heartbreaking, and it somehow started to tame my irritation with her.
So, later while we were packing up to head home, I made the first conciliatory step by offering Mama some gum. She didn’t take it, but she was surprised that I’d offered—it meant she didn’t have to apologize—and she smiled at my olive branch. And just like that, we were on our way back to being fine. This is how we make up: one of us tests the waters—usually me—with a small signal that indicates I’m done being upset. Mama’s either ready, or she’s not. This time she smiled with full eye contact, so I knew we were off to the races. I have no idea how another girl and a mom with a Daniel all tangled up around the edges of their relationship would do it. But this is how me and Mama have always managed our turmoil—and we haven’t killed each other yet.
We got home that night to find two cars in the circular driveway—a Jeep Cherokee and a Prius, which meant nothing to me but seemed to alarm Mia. “Oh, no…” she muttered from the back seat.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“It’s Peter. What’s he doing here?”
“Camille’s Peter? That can’t be good,” I said under my breath.
Bree, oblivious, wanted to thank Mia’s family once again for their hospitality, which seemed somehow trivial at the moment, but a necessary courtesy. Geneva seemed very preoccupied but agreed. She looked at me. “This Peter…He’s the brother-in-law?”
I nodded as I dug around in the trunk for my bags. “He’s bad, Gran. It’s a mess.”
We emptied the car of our spoils and headed toward the house. But as we stepped onto the front porch, my grandmother stiffened.
“Everything okay, Mom?” Bree asked.
Geneva looked at Mia, then at me, her brow deeply bent in worry. “No, I don’t think it is.” She looked at Bree, then at the house, then back at us. “Something feels very, very wrong.”