Chapter 2 Hope #3
And, of course, there was my disastrous decision to marry Kurt four months after my mother’s death.
My mother used to say I am overly optimistic and too impulsive, even on my ADHD meds, but I didn’t believe her. Her death and my rebound-from-grief marriage had changed all that. I no longer had boundless faith in the goodness of the universe, the intentions of others, or my own abilities.
“You’d have to put your whole life on hold,” Eddie said gently.
“What life?” I turned my hands palm up. “I don’t really have one.”
Ralph patted my back. “All the more reason you need to stay in Chicago and build one.”
“Maybe this is just the way to do that.” Conviction swelled in me like a religious experience, infusing me with a sense of energy and purpose that had been lacking for months.
Maybe years. “A few months in Wedding Tree would give me a chance to figure out my options and decide what I want to do next.”
“A few months in Wedding Tree will make anything look like a better option,” Ralph said.
“And maybe that’s exactly what I need.”
Ralph and Eddie exchanged dubious looks. But then, they didn’t know what my life was really like—how isolated and shut off and rudderless I’d become. You couldn’t even say my life was adrift, because drifting implied movement. My life was stuck on a sandbar and completely fogged in.
“Look—I’m working as a temp. My sublet is up in two months, and I don’t have a clue where I’m going to move.
My friends are all married and busy with their families or else they’ve moved away, and jobs in the art world are harder than ever to come by in this economy.
” I was voicing things I hadn’t even allowed myself to think.
Depression had kept me catatonic, but apparently I’d subconsciously been fretting about my future, because relief flooded through me as I talked.
The prospect of getting out of Chicago and helping Gran sort through her belongings gave me a sense of direction, of meaning, of usefulness.
“This is perfect timing. Helping Gran would help me.”
Eddie sighed. “Hope, honey, do you remember what Mom’s house looks like?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you looked in her attic and storage shed and garage and closets?”
“It’s been a few years.” Maybe even a decade. Come to think of it, I might have been twelve the last time I was in the attic.
“She’s only continued to add things to them. Every square inch is crammed and bulging.”
“Well, it has to be tackled by someone. Might as well be me.”
“You can’t simultaneously sort out the house and take care of Mom. We don’t even know what level of care she’ll need.”
Ralph thoughtfully rubbed the auburn stubble on his jaw. “We can hire home health care workers.”
Eddie and Ralph exchanged another long look, the kind of look that’s a whole conversation. I felt a burst of longing; I’d never been that closely attuned to anyone. Certainly not to my husband, not even in the early days, back when I’d thought things were good.
Eddie ran a hand down his face. “Hope, honey—you’re tired. This is a huge commitment, and it doesn’t need to be decided right now. Go to the house, take a good look around, and sleep on it.” He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to me.
“You need sleep, too,” I said, noticing the shadows under his eyes. “Why don’t we take turns staying here with Gran tonight?”
“Nah. I’ll be fine. I can sleep like a log anywhere.”
“That’s true,” Ralph said, kneading the back of Eddie’s neck. “He fell asleep at a Warriors game last week and nearly slid off the seat.”
“You can’t blame me.” Eddie tilted his head down to give Ralph better access to his neck. “Our team was twenty points ahead.”
“My point is, he can nod off in a chair just as well as on a bed. Maybe better. He’ll be sawing logs as soon as his butt hits a cushion.”
Eddie nodded. “It’s one of my many mad skills.”
Ralph ended the neck massage and swatted Eddie’s butt. “And you have very many, very mad skills.”
Eddie playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “Not in front of the children.”
I laughed, but felt more wistful than amused. Eddie and Ralph had been together for more than a dozen years and shared the kind of warm, easy affection I’d hoped for in my own marriage.
“I, on the other hand, require a prone position,” Ralph said, “so I’m off to the Mosey On Inn.” Ralph was allergic to dogs, and Gran had a shaggy mixed breed named Snowball, so Ralph and Eddie always stayed at the town’s only inn whenever they visited Wedding Tree.
Eddie hugged him good-bye, then kissed my cheek and turned toward the door to Gran’s room.
“Sure you’ll be okay here alone?” I asked.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Mom for company.”
“Not to mention his grandmother on the ceiling,” Ralph said dryly.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’ll chalk your insensitivity up to sleep deprivation this time, but it better not happen again.
” He turned the “Visitors Welcome” sign on Gran’s door around to read “Patient Sleeping—No Visitors Allowed” and made a shooing motion with his hand.
“Now get on out of here, you two. I need my beauty sleep.”
I peeked in as Eddie entered the room. Gran was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling.
Eddie plopped into the bedside recliner, kicked back the footrest, and closed his eyes.
Satisfied, I backed out. Before the door even closed behind me, the soft snuffle of Eddie’s snore rose from the chair.