A Fistful of God (14 page)

“You look like Aidyn. Beautiful.” He held the picture out to me. “Can I keep this? I’ll bring it back. I promise. Someday, I’ll bring it back.”

I nodded. Knowing he’d carry it with him, knowing it would bring him back to me, made it the most precious thing I owned.

I hadn’t slept in Mom’s bed since just after my dad died, but that night she let me crawl in with her, held me while I cried and let me tell her the plans Miguel and I made with each other but couldn’t believe would ever happen.

“You’ll see him again, I hope.”

“You promise?”

“I can’t do that. But I believe it. I believe with my whole heart that you’ll see him.”

I pushed her away. “What’s so hard about making promises?”

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

“Why not? You’ve broken plenty of them before.” I knew I’d hurt her, I wanted to hurt her. Losing Miguel wasn’t Mom’s fault, but she was the only person I could fight.

“You’re right.” Mom drew me back to her side. “And that’s why I made the decision that I won’t make promises I can’t keep, and I’ll keep the ones I make.”

I sat up, searching her face in the darkness. “Then promise you’ll never drink again.” If only she would, how much easier my life would be.

“I can’t, baby. No matter how much we both want that to be true, I can’t promise.”

“Then I don’t want any of your promises!”

“What do you want from me?” Mom rubbed her face. “I’m doing as much as I can.”

“You’ve made it this far. It’s been almost two months, Mom. Why not?” I sounded like a begging child.

I felt her struggle, her shaking. “I can’t, Aidyn. I just can’t.”

“So you’ll start lying to me and life will turn back into chaos.”

I turned my back on her and let the silence come between us. Pride said I ought to march back to my own room; pain made me stay. After a long time, Mom whispered, “Aidyn, I can promise this. If I start drinking again, I’ll tell you. I won’t lie about it.”

At first I shrugged. Then I turned and let her hold me again. Even Mom couldn’t promise Miguel would be safe. She couldn’t promise I’d see him again. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t drink. But at least she could hold me while I cried.

The next day, Saturday, Elaine and Jackson showed up. Shannon tagged behind, giving Mom uneasy looks, even after Mom welcomed her.

“We’re going skating,” Elaine announced.

“Skating,” Mom said, as if it were a foreign word. She gave Elaine a look I remembered from childhood, when Dad would come up with some crazy idea and expect Mom to be as enthusiastic as he was. Usually Dad won.

“Shannon tells me she and Aidyn used to skate together all the time.”

I glanced at Shannon.

“Sorry,” she mouthed, and then, louder, “We thought it would take your mind off things.”

“I don’t want to take my mind off Miguel.”

She snorted.

“Skating?” Mom repeated.

“You know, the little boots with the wheels attached to the bottom? You roll around on them, do tricks.” Elaine laughed. “That sort of thing. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know how to skate.” But Mom got her keys anyway.

“Today’s the day you’ll learn.” Elaine gave her a brilliant smile and swept us out in front of her.

As Jackson passed me I hissed, “I don’t want to go skating.”

“You’ve got to do something besides moon about Miguel.”

“I
like
mooning about him.”

“I told Mom it was too soon. She’s got this idea that she needs to show Beth how she likes you and thinks you’re this wonderful girl. They got in a fight, you know.”

I shook my head.

“Yeah, Mom told her”—he stopped—”I mean…”

“Your mom can’t stand me; that’s no big secret.”

Shannon said, “She doesn’t like me either.”

“OK, so it’s not a secret,” Jackson said. “Anyway, Mom wants to make it up to her.”

“Are you going to take all day?” Elaine asked from beside her car.

Mom was already in the front, and the three of us climbed into the backseat.

Why hadn’t Mom told me they’d fought? Elaine was her sponsor. Maybe that was why she’d missed so many meetings lately. I’d thought it was because of the flu and Miguel, but a fight with Elaine made more sense. And the way she’d refused to make promises the night before. Cold chills started in my neck and spilled down my back. Maybe Mom didn’t have much to hold onto anymore either.

Elaine started the engine then slapped her hands on the wheel. “We need to talk this out.”

I sank down in the seat. Great. We were imprisoned. I couldn’t get away without making a scene.

“You’re getting to be very good at accepting responsibility for your actions, Beth. But you haven’t said one word about the way you yelled at me.”

“You’re right. I haven’t.” Mom kept her voice light, though I heard the anger. “I yelled at you. I was mad. I think I still am.”

Elaine nodded. “And I now need to accept responsibility for my own bad behavior. Sobriety does not make a person perfect.” She twisted in the seat, her cheeks flaming. “I admit I disliked Aidyn before I ever met her—”

“Mom, she’s sitting right here,” Jackson said in an agonized tone.

“I realize that, son. Aidyn, the truth is, I blamed you for making things so hard for your mother. You weren’t supportive, and I wanted Beth to have the support she needed.”

I pinched my lips together, certain that everyone in the world saw what a horrible person I was and had judged me unacceptable.

“I was wrong.” Elaine’s voice strained on the words. “I realize I had it so easy during my early recovery. I had my sons, my husband, and they all backed me up. They wanted the best for me. I only wanted the best for you, Beth, and I was angry that Aidyn didn’t seem to care.”

Mom held up a hand. “Elaine—”

Elaine raised her voice. “I was jealous for you. I wanted so badly for you to make it, and I resented Aidyn because I thought she would make you fail.”

Again, Mom tried to give Elaine her opinion. “Aidyn doesn’t have that power.”

“I know that.” Elaine relaxed slightly and reached for the gear shift. “One of the first lessons we learn, but I forgot it in my enthusiasm to help you.” She turned to meet my eyes. “Aidyn, I apologize for resenting you. Your mother’s recovery is not up to you.”

Tortured by raw emotion, I nodded and slid my eyes to meet Mom’s.

“Now, Aidyn, if you want to help your mom, you’ll go to the Alateen meetings everyone keeps bugging you about. Nobody’s trying to get on your case.”

I stared at my hands, thinking that “bugging” was a mild word to describe how everyone nagged me.

“I’m done,” Elaine announced. She pulled away from the curb. “I’ve made all of you uncomfortable, I’m sure, and to make it up to you all, the skating trip is my treat.”

“I don’t skate.” But no one paid attention to Mom.

She meant what she said, but I didn’t realize how serious she was until we got inside the rink. Her face went pale when Jackson insisted on fitting her with a pair of roller blades. “I don’t need them,” she said, though not loud enough to convince anyone but me.

Jackson handed her the skates. “Come on, Mrs. Pierce. Show your style.”

Mom stared at him, turned to me. “He’s not making sense. I don’t know how to skate. I don’t even know how to put them on.” She handed them to Elaine and walked away, but Elaine followed her. I found a bench to sit on while I changed out of my shoes. By the time I stood up, I could see Elaine had bullied Mom into lacing up a pair. Elaine grabbed her hands and pulled her up, then let go. Mom promptly went down.

I pulled her up and tried to stop laughing.

“I’m too old to start this,” Mom yelled.

Jackson got on one side and Elaine got on the other, and they dragged her to the side of the rink, but that was as far as they got. Just like a horse rearing at the edge of a ditch, Mom threw her hands out to brace herself on the barrier.

“I’m not going out there.”

Jackson grabbed her arm, playfully. Mom jerked away, not at all playfully, and glared at him. “I don’t skate.”

“It’s OK, Beth,” Elaine yelled. “If you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to do it.”

Jackson lifted his hands in a give-up gesture before he and Shannon swooped out. I could tell they’d practiced.

“OK.” Mom relaxed. She rolled one foot forward, then the other and grimaced.

“You going?” she asked me.

I shrugged. Elaine motioned me out on the rink and that was enough to make me want to plant myself next to Mom and refuse to move.

Mom leaned toward Elaine. “Give me a drink, and I’ll do it.”

Elaine chuckled, though I didn’t see any humor in it. I turned around to argue as Elaine said, “Feeling brave, are we?”

“Actually, no.” Mom shook her head. “You want the truth? It’d take the whole bottle to get me out there.”

That time I yelled, “Mom!”

“Oh, Aidyn, I’m joking.” Mom waved her hand as though she could brush away the words. “I’m not going to start drinking because of some roller rink.”

“OK.” I edged closer. “I’ll sit out with you.”

“What, to babysit me?”

“No, to keep you company.”

Her face lit up. After watching the rink for a moment, she said, “If you promise you won’t let me kill myself, maybe I’ll try.”

“Really?”

Elaine raised her fist in victory. “Let me get warmed up, and I’ll come back to spot you.”

Mom grabbed my arm and pulled herself closer, nearly pulling me down at the same time. “You have to stay with me, OK, or I won’t make it.”

Mom had been with me all week. “I’ll stick by you.”

“Don’t leave me, Aidyn. Promise.”

“I won’t. I’ll be right here next to you.” I meant it. I meant it for the times she got scared, or I got scared. I meant it for the times one of us needed the other to hold on to. I meant it forever, and I never thought it might be the kind of promise I should never have made.

13

Mom bounced in from work the Monday before Thanksgiving. “I got a promotion.”

I didn’t get it. Mom worked with plants. What could she be promoted to? Trees? But I couldn’t ask. Since Miguel had left, opening my mouth to do more than yawn took too much energy. I rubbed my eyes beneath my smeared glasses and watched Mom.

Her eyes sparkled as she danced around our old living room furniture. She’d caught her hair in a French braid that morning, and now, with the dark frizzy spits of escaped curls framing her cheeks, she looked so young and so happy. I straightened a bit, digging my elbow into the broken sofa spring to lever myself. Only in the last few weeks had her face lost the alcoholic sag she’d worn for so long. Now she looked like the mother I remembered from back when Daddy was still alive.

“I finally get to do what I’ve always wanted. I’ve been trying to prove to Toni that I could do it. She told me today that she’d always known I could, too, that I’d be really good at it, but I couldn’t handle it when I was drinking.” She laughed. “God bless sobriety! It means a raise, Aidyn. A big raise and commissions.”

“What kind of promotion?” I scooted forward so the lumpy couch wouldn’t lure me back into closing my eyes.

“I am now Toni’s official landscape consultant.” She grinned. “This means I get to advise people who need help with their gardens or yards. It might be as simple as finding the right plants for the kind of sun exposure they get, or as big as plotting out a whole yard.” She bounced on her toes. “And if we have more money, maybe we can get some new furniture, fix up this place. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Some new things in your room?”

“I guess.” I didn’t want to hurt Mom or squash her enthusiasm. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited about anything. But everything she’d used to tempt me back into caring for life seemed flat, colorless, and empty. Anything without Miguel looked lifeless.

Mom danced a bag of frozen peas from the freezer to the stove. “The best thing is, I’ve already got a big job lined up. Someone who just moved here is coming in tomorrow to consult with me about landscaping his whole property. I can’t wait, but I’m a little scared, too.” She glanced at me.

“It sounds really good, Mom.”

She came to kneel in front of me, her hand on my cheek. “Baby, it won’t always hurt this much. I know I never taught you any decent ways to deal with losing someone you love, and all I can say is, you have hope. He’s—” She stopped, her face tortured.

“He’s still alive,” I finished for her.

She nodded and stood. “Do you think you can help with dinner?”

I shrugged, but I followed her to the kitchen and set the table. As we ate, she asked, “Do you mind my going on and on about this? I don’t want to make you feel worse, but I’d like to think I can help take your mind off Miguel, at least for a while.”

“It’s OK,” Really, it was. While most of me cried silently for him, a small part of me rejoiced for her. Finally her world was going good, and I wouldn’t let myself resent it.

After she sang her way through a sink full of dishes, she called Elaine to tell her the good news. Even on the phone she couldn’t sit still but danced around the room. I heard her say, “Thanks, I’m proud of me, too,” while she bounced on her toes. She sounded like a little kid, and I found myself smiling for a few seconds until I realized
I
hadn’t told her I was proud of her. Should I? But I couldn’t decide if it would be true or not.

While she talked I sneaked to my room. My bed was a mass of cold, tangled sheets, the blanket a twisted snake reaching for the floor. I lay across it on my stomach and reached for the tiny pile of letters I kept beside the pillow, letters I’d written to Miguel. I had no idea where he was, no idea how I could ever send anything to him. But I couldn’t stop writing them. When I held them against my heart, I felt closer to him, closer to our love. Because he loved me, and I’d never told him I loved him. Not out loud. I told him over and over in the letters he never got to read.

After a while I wiped my eyes and got a new sheet of paper. I told Miguel how much I missed him and about Mom’s promotion and her excitement. I told Miguel I needed him, and how kind Jackson and Shannon and Lucy, in fact, nearly everyone in the youth group, had been. I begged him to come home.