Chapter 19 #2
I looked over my shoulder and found Henry standing before my painting. “I just finished it last night.”
He leaned in closer. “What are those raised circles in the center of the flowers?”
I joined him and smoothed my fingertip over the center of the purple chrysanthemum. “My AA chips. If you look closely you can see this one says start. I received it at my first meeting in rehab. The flower is a chrysanthemum. It symbolizes a fresh start.”
“Hmph.” Henry tapped the center of a red-and-orange flower. “This one says twenty-four hours.”
“That’s a blanketflower. It can grow in extreme environments. It represents surviving. I was barely surviving at that point, but still.” I shrugged, focusing on the yellow flower beside it. “The daffodil is associated with overcoming challenges. Its center is my six-month chip.”
“And the sunflower?” Henry traced the brown center.
“My four-month chip. Represents healing and resilience. About that time, I felt like I was finally turning a corner in treatment.” I pointed to the deep fuchsia flower near the top of the painting.
“Echinacea symbolizes strength and health. I’ll add more chips as I earn them. I’m due my seven-month one.”
Henry turned to me, his eyes soft. “This is . . . I love it, Junie. It’s clever, chock-full of private meaning . . .” He shook his head. “How do you know so much about flowers?”
“I think I already told you. Plants and trees are my parents’ world.
I tried to learn all I could about them, hoping to be a part of it.
But it was all for nothing. They still didn’t let me in.
” Moving away from the painting, I returned to the counter and slammed my fist down against the pack of saltines. It felt so good I did it again.
“What did those poor crackers do to you?” Henry laughed nervously, probably thinking I was about to have a come apart.
“You have to crush them for the salad,” I explained, giving the pack another firm whack. “How about dicing up those tomatoes. There’s a cutting board beside the knife block.” Keeping my watery eyes turned away from his, I finished crushing the crackers and poured them into a bowl.
Henry cleared his throat. “I know how it feels, wanting to fit into your parents’ world. That’s why I became a professor, to fit into my father’s academia world.”
I looked up and regarded Henry as he carefully chopped a tomato. “How’d that work out for you?”
Henry focused on the tomato. “Okay, I guess, until I told him I wanted to be a writer.” He huffed.
“I had my first manuscript printed out and bound at the Office Depot especially for my dad to read. It took a month for him to get back to me. He said it was silly, girlie fluff. Said I needed to stick to teaching math.” The knife stilled as Henry glanced up at me.
“That’s why I’ve continued teaching and kept the books secret, so I wouldn’t embarrass him. ”
I gasped. “Henry, that’s . . . Your books aren’t silly or fluff reads. But even if they were and that’s what you’re passionate about, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You do you and be proud of it.”
Henry finished the last tomato, walked the knife to the sink, then leaned on the counter beside me. “Same goes for you, Junie. Take your own advice and stop worrying about fitting into your parents’ or your brother’s world. You’re remarkable as you are.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that, but thank you for saying it,” I muttered, adding two dollops of mayonnaise to the bowl and the tomatoes, then a sprinkling of salt and pepper. “Salad is ready.”
Henry adjusted his glasses and peered into the bowl. “This is salad?”
“Yep. Normally, Grandma would add green onions and a boiled egg, maybe bacon, but I don’t have any of that, so it is what it is, which is delicious.”
I halved the salad into two bowls and handed Henry one with a fork. “You’ll like it, trust me.”
He took a tentative bite, and his eyes lit up. “That is oddly good.” He shoveled in another forkful.
“Told you.” I took a bite too and tasted the tangy flavor of the mayo mixing with sweet memories of sunshine and laughter, also known as a summer-ripe tomato.
We stood by the sink and, like magicians, made our makeshift meal disappear.
“Why did you need a distraction today?” Henry said as I turned on the faucet. “You never said.”
The deep pinch in my stomach came back with a vengeance. I squirted dish soap into the stream of hot water. “My brother dropped a bomb on me yesterday.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
“He got a job in Tennessee and plans on taking my daughter with them.” I placed the dishes into the soapy water and grabbed a dishcloth. “My probation won’t allow me to leave the state for several more months. So I’ll be stuck here and they’ll be all the way in Tennessee.”
“He’s only now telling you this?”
Henry’s question and the sharp tone of his voice gave me pause. I turned from the sink and met his stern gaze. “What do you mean by that? Should he have told me earlier?”
“Yes. He’s . . .” Henry closed his mouth, then started again. “Taking a position at a university isn’t like applying to McDonald’s and starting the very same week. It’s a much longer process.”
I finished washing a bowl and Henry took it and began rinsing it. “So you think he’s known for a while?”
“Yes,” Henry said adamantly, placing the clean bowl in the rack.
“Maybe he didn’t want to tell me until he was certain, I don’t know. But I can’t let him take her out of state. If that happens I’m scared I’ll never get her back.”
“I really wish there was something I could do to help you. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. This is my fault . . .” I fished the two forks out and washed them before handing them to Henry.
Our sudsy hands brushed. If I were a normal woman in my mid-twenties, this could have easily led in a different direction than the uncomfortable path we were currently on. “I’ve looked into getting a lawyer.”
“A lawyer. You think that’s necessary?”
I unplugged the sink and dried my hands.
“At this point, I do. I’m not saying I don’t deserve this crappy hand dealt to me, I’m just saying I deserve another chance.
If I didn’t think I could do right by Fern, I’d hand her over with no protest, but I feel in my heart I can be the mother she deserves.
I just need the opportunity to prove it. ”
“Then get the lawyer and fight for her.”
I sniffed away the tears and nodded.
Henry pulled me into an embrace and I allowed it, sinking against his chest. The steady in and out of his breaths helped to slow mine after a while.
This warm, gentle place, I could get lost in it.
Stay right here and let him make me forget all the awfulness life was currently dishing out to me.
But real life called, so I stepped out of his arms and pointed to his wrapped tattoo.
“Enough about me. You, sir, need to go write now that you’ve done your research. ”
He didn’t move, as if ready to stay rooted in my troubles.
“Seriously, Henry, go. I have to head out to my AA meeting soon, anyways.”
Henry left as quietly as that day I made him coffee. I had to give it to the guy, he knew when someone needed space.
I sat down on a stool and placed my head on the counter.
Even though all I wanted to do was to hide and bawl my eyes out, I knew I had to pull it together and attend my meeting. At least among the broken I could be openly broken too.