Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next day was Sunday, and I went to early mass. I wasn’t ready to confront Rodrigo or deal with Trixie Lynn. I spent the rest of the day reading, weaving, and watching a movie with my sisters. They sensed my mood and didn’t tread on any sensitive subjects.
Sunday night, I slept well, but when I woke I knew there were still things I needed to think through. So I planned a few days doing what I did best: fixing things.
After breakfast, I started with the inside of the RV, since both my sisters had taken off for the day. I streamed country music loudly through the RVs speaker systems and went to work.
Beginning with the back, I checked every shelf for looseness, tightening some screws here and there. Unlike a mobile home that stays put, the jostling of the RV on the road tends to make things fall apart. Screws and pipe fittings loosen. People complain about the constant repair motorhomes need, without realizing the dual function of home and vehicle puts a lot of stress on things.
Especially considering the state of some of the roads. They didn’t just have potholes—some of the nation’s highways had genuine craters. More than once I’d thrown things across the RV while swerving to avoid a spot where the road seemed to disappear.
Thankfully, more road crews seemed to be out. It was a pain to go through the one-lane construction zones, but having safe roads was worth the inconvenience.
Once I’d taken my screwdriver to every shelf in the place, it was time to check the pipe fittings. Under the kitchen sink, the p-trap was loose. When I inspected it more closely, I realized it had cracked around a fitting.
It was going to need to be replaced.
I got a piece of paper and noted the fix that needed to be made. Then I continued to check the fittings in every other pipe. When I was done inside, I’d start on all the fittings under the RV. That should keep me going most of the day.
The routine was soothing. My mind began to wander to the problem at hand: Rodrigo.
He’d talked about wanting to be together, but how would that work? I was in my sixties. If I wanted a second chance at happiness, there wasn’t much time to waste. Did he want to get married? Was it important enough for me to insist upon?
Yes. My beliefs were part of who I was at my core. They were old-fashioned, and I felt no need to insist that everyone believe what I did, but if Rodrigo and I were to make it work, he’d need to accept my beliefs. We would need to get married.
What about intimacy before marriage? The church was basically against it, but there were plenty of priests who turned a blind eye to the practice, especially if the couple was in a committed relationship.
I’d deal with that if and when it happened.
When I was hungry, I made a sandwich and poured a glass of iced tea, sitting outside to enjoy it. While I sat, I nodded at people going by, listened to the birds in the nearby brush, and enjoyed every bite of my meal. No matter what happened between Rodrigo and me, I’d finally let go of some of the bitterness I’d clutched for so long.
Anger and bitterness were often only harmful to the people who held onto them.
Genna texted me to see how I was doing. I told her I was fine and invited her and her husband over for cocktail hour.
It took most of the afternoon to go through all the pipe fittings under the motor home. Fortunately, most of them appeared solid. I didn’t look forward to any problems dealing with gray or black water.
Just thinking about it made me shudder.
By the time I’d cleaned up and taken a shower, my sisters were home.
“Cocktails?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” Diane replied.
“Sounds good,” Liz said. “I’ve got something to show you.” She pulled out a canvas she’d tucked behind one of the chairs.
It was an amazing portrait of an older woman half asleep in a chair. The lines on her face echoed her age, but there was also a hint of the young woman she’d once been. That expression had been mirrored in a painting the woman was holding of a teenage girl, presumably one of the old woman herself.
It took my breath away.
“That’s amazing,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” Diane asked.
“Thanks,” Liz said. “I took a photo of it for my agent, and she says she believes she has a place for it in a gallery in San Francisco. My old gallery is happy with the old work I have.” Liz was famous for her pen and watercolor art which she’d sold under a pseudonym. She smiled. “She suggested I present this under my own name. If this is the direction I want to go, I need to claim it.”
I nodded. Maybe that was what this trip was really about: reclaiming the pieces of ourselves we’d given up for one reason or another.
“So that’s what I’m going to do,” Liz said.
“Great idea!” Diane exclaimed. “Now how about those cocktails?”
I laughed and went to mix up a batch of gin and tonics, our drink of choice.
“By the way,” I said. “I’ve invited Genna and her husband, Don, to stop by.”
“That’s nice,” Diane said. “It’s fun to have other people over.”
We’d just started on our first round when Genna and Don showed up. She’d brought wine and he, a few beers. I got her a glass, and we settled in for a nice chat.
For a long while we talked about the places we’d been, which is something people motoring around the country like to do. They hadn’t spent much time on the East Coast, so they were fascinated by our descriptions of the Hudson River Valley.
“Your sister says you’re an artist,” Genna said to Liz.
“Yes,” Liz said. “I’ve been working in a studio in San Antonio while we’ve been here.”
“She just finished a painting,” Diane said. “Show it to her.”
With a little bit of prodding, Liz showed the picture. She’d changed so much since the beginning of the trip. So had Diane. They’d released their secrets and moved on.
Tonight was the night to tell them about Michael. It was time for me, too, to come clean.
Despite my protests, Diane told Genna and Don about my tumble into the creek.
“It’s a tradition,” she said. “When I met my old boyfriend in Yellowstone—totally unexpectedly—he tried to teach me how to fish. Every time we went near water, I managed to fall in.”
“Hard to avoid water when you’re fishing,” Don said with a wry tone.
We laughed.
“But Liz fell in the water after going through a maze,” Diane pointed out. “She was dating her ex-boyfriend. And, plop! Into the water she goes! ”
“It sounds like you sisters are destined to be with men you’ve known before,” Genna said.
“Except for Kathleen,” Diane said. “She’s found someone totally new.”
“Well …” I said, glancing over at Genna.
My new friend’s face didn’t reveal her in-depth knowledge of what was going on between Rodrigo and me.
“But she still fell in the water,” Diane said with a chuckle.
“It’s got to be true love then,” Liz said.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves a bit,” I said.
“I’m sure it will all turn out the way it’s supposed to,” Genna said.
“I agree,” Don said, taking her hand. “It took us a while, but we found each other.”
“Had you known each other before?” Liz asked.
“No,” he said. “But I knew I was in love with her not long after we met. She took a little convincing.”
They smiled at each other. There was no doubt in my mind that the love they shared was deep and long-lasting.
After another half hour or so of talking, they left. We took our drinks inside, and Liz started making dinner. Diane turned on the news, but I ignored it. It didn’t seem to change or get better.
Like many people I’d talked to, I missed the feel-good, human interest stories that used to accompany our local news so long ago. When people doing good things was celebrated, instead of the news being about the worst behaviors humans could inflict upon each other.
I shook off the melancholy and concentrated on the book I was reading until dinner was ready.
After dinner, Diane and I cleaned up while Liz browsed on her tablet.
“Can we talk?” I asked after the last dish had been dried and put away.
“Sure.” Liz put her tablet aside, and Diane settled into a chair.
“I don’t know why we all felt a need to keep secrets,” I said. “You two have opened up about yours, and now it’s my turn.” I took a large sip of the water I’d poured, wishing it was something a little stronger.
I looked at my sisters, unable to speak anymore.
They nodded their encouragement.
I took a deep breath and began the story of Michael’s addiction and my complicity in it.
They were quiet all the way through as I told it. To me, it was almost like another person was sitting next to me reciting it like it was a puppet.
When I was done, I was dry-eyed, but drained.
“Oh, sweetie,” Liz said. “I’m so sorry. That had to have been horrible. No wonder you were always so short on cash.”
“It’s so hard when the man you love betrays you,” Diane said, her voice sad with her own memory of her ex-husband’s lies.
“I should have been stronger,” I said. “I should have given him an ultimatum.”
“That would have been very difficult for you,” Liz said. “Mom and Dad set such a strong example of what a marriage was. They argued, but there was never any doubt they would stick together. They made a vow and had every intention of keeping it. Like you, their Catholic faith was so strong, they couldn’t even imagine a divorce.”
I nodded, and then the tears began to flow.
“I never thought you’d understand,” I said.
“Why not?”
“You’re so different. You seemed to flaunt everything Mom and Dad stood for, and you were so strong in your conviction that they were wrong.”
“Yeah, well, see how well that turned out for me,” she said.
“I get it,” Diane said. “It took me a long time to accept the idea that I needed to get a divorce. It went against everything I believed in. But I’m glad I did.” She shook her head. “And I did put things in motion to get an annulment.”
“Really?” Liz asked.
“Really. I want to have a clean conscience with Joe.”
“It’s not stopping you from doing the horizontal mambo,” Liz said.
Diane reddened. “That’s different.”
Liz laughed, and I had to join in.
Diane stood up and walked to me. She reached down and urged me up.
“You’ve held the ranch together,” she said.
Liz joined us.
“You raised two amazing kids,” Liz said.
“We’re proud of you,” Diane said.
“Very.” Liz put her arms around Diane and me.
Diane and I did the same.
A group hug never felt so good.
“Now,” Liz said. “Get out there and get your man.”