Chapter 20 #2
“Well, he was right about that. You’ve always helped me pay for my education, and I haven’t had to work except during the summer.”
“That’s because school is a full-time job,” said Raven.
“I know, but… anyway, he started to make me second-guess myself. Every time I had an idea or wanted to plan something to do, he had a reason it wouldn’t work.
And then when I started talking about going back to school, he reminded me that I had struggled.
That I wasn’t a great student like Mac is.
He said he was just protecting me from disappointment. Doing it for my own good.”
Raven looked up at Wren and met her eyes. “You know he isn’t right about that. Life is all about growing, making mistakes, learning what it is you are good at.”
“I know. At least I mostly know that.” Wren concentrated on feeding the kitten. “That’s what McKenzie kept telling me, and I just didn’t want to listen. She’s so smart and good at everything.”
“She’s not so good at knitting, if I remember correctly.” Raven thought of the scarf Mac had tried to make a few years earlier. It had been filled with dropped stitches.
Wren giggled. “I forgot about that. She’s also not the best cook in the world.”
Raven smiled. “Everyone has their gifts, Wren. And everyone has things to learn.”
“I just wish I knew what my gifts were,” said Wren. “Mac is a whiz at all the subjects at school. She’s definitely going to get into vet school. But I don’t think I will. I just struggled so much. And who am I if I don’t go to vet school?”
“When you’re ready, we can look at the courses you did take. Maybe it isn’t as bad as you think it is. Just because Mac gets great marks doesn’t mean yours are so bad. You’ve always done well in school.”
“But they only take the top of the class into the program,” said Wren. “And if I don’t make it… Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do Mom.”
“You don’t need to know what you are going to do right away. Just take it one day at a time, and look at the possibilities. You’ll figure it out. For now, let’s make sure these little ones get fed a few times a day. They are happy you’re here.”
“That feels too easy,” said Wren.
“Not easy,” said Raven, “just the next right thing. One thing at a time. Figure out what you like to do best, like feeding these little guys.” She took the kitten to the enclosure and scooped out another one. “The big decisions can wait.”
For the next two hours, Raven and Wren finished cleaning out the cattery, fed the cats, and spent time with the other kittens that had come in over recent weeks. They fell into a routine that was years old, one that she and Wren and Roz and Mac had participated in countless times.
“What would you like for dinner?” asked Raven. “Or would you like to go out? There’s an Indian place down by the water now that’s quite good.”
“I don’t know, Mom. Can’t we just have some pasta or something? I’m tired.”
“Sure,” said Raven, looking over at her daughter. She looked better than she had when she arrived. The dark circles under her eyes had faded, and she had a bit more color in her cheeks. And for that Raven was grateful.
They put the kittens they were playing with back into their enclosure and left the building.
“Maybe I should take a bit of a nap,” said Wren, yawning, when they got into the house.
“Well, first you need to put sheets on the bed.” Raven opened the washing machine to pull out the wet ones. “I’ll put these out on the line. There are fresh ones in the linen closet.”
“Right.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, it’s okay,” said Wren, grabbing some sheets from the linen closet.
“I’ll come and wake you for dinner in an hour and a half,” said Raven.
“Okay.” Wren opened her door, stepped inside, and closed it again.
Raven hung the sheets on the line outside, feeling satisfied when she saw how tidy and orderly the line was, though there was a missing pillowcase. She would have to get Wren to look for it. Still, her mother would have been pleased—she always liked a tidy line.
Ninety minutes later, she had finished making shrimp linguine, one of Wren’s favorites, and she knocked on her daughter’s door. When there was no answer, she opened the door and walked in to find Wren spread-eagle on her unmade mattress, as though she had fallen there earlier and not moved.
“Wren.” Raven walked over to her daughter and nudged her on the back.
“Hmmm.”
“Come on, love, time to get up for dinner.”
“Not hungry.”
“Well at least get up so we can make the bed.”
“Oh, Mom.” Wren flopped onto her back and looked up at Raven. “I just want to sleep. I’m so tired.”
“Get up for a minute, put on your nightie, and I’ll make your bed. Tomorrow, I’m taking you in to see the doctor.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor.”
“Yes, I think you do. Come on. Up you get.”
“Mommm.” Wren stared up at Raven, her normally bright eyes dull.
“I mean it. Up you get. Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth, put on your nightie, and when you get back the bed will be made.”
“Ohhh.” Wren struggled to sit up. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
She hoisted herself up from the bed then shuffled toward the door. Raven quickly made the bed, fluffed the pillows and duvet, and walked around the room, picking up debris and dirty socks and underwear. She put them all into a pillowcase, presumably the one that was missing from the line.
Moments later, Wren returned, looking a little better.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, walking over to the bed and climbing in. “I’m so tired.”
“I know. We should get a doctor to look at you. It’s not like you.”
“I’ll feel better tomorrow,” said Wren. “Good night.”
“Good night,” said Raven. She walked to the kitchen and looked up to see that it was now six in the evening. Tomorrow, no matter what Wren said, she was taking her in to see the doctor. It was time.
She served herself up a plate of linguine, poured herself a glass of white wine, and took her dinner out to the patio. Alone.
And, for the first time in a while, also lonely.
Lonely? She weighed the thought. After a year of being on her own, why was she lonely now?
She knew the answer.
Because she missed Lance.
And because she had pushed him away.