Dying Wishes (27 page)

“You
can’t do that ever again,” I told him. “There’s too much at stake, your whole
future.”

“More
than you know,” he mumbled.

“What
do you mean?”

He
looked at me again, and his eyes were wet. I held my breath.

I
went to see her lawyer, that
MacRae
guy who lives at
Vista View, first thing this morning. He called and said he had something for
me from Margaret, so I went to his office before work. He handed me an
envelope. Inside was a Certificate of Deposit that matures in six months and a
note from Margaret saying it was for my
future.
”

The
tears were streaming down his face now. “It’s enough for college, even medical
school, if I invest it right.
MacRae
said he’d help
me with that part.” His voice broke as he choked out another few words. “She
signed the note ‘Love, Margaret.’”

He
buried his face in his hands and sobbed, for
all the
world like a broken-hearted child who had lost yet another mother. I rummaged
in my pocket for a tissue packet and patted his back awkwardly, waiting for him
to cry himself out.

“You
cannot do this again,” I repeated softly.

He
honked into the tissues and mopped his face defiantly. “I can’t promise that.”

Looking
at him and examining my own conscience, I knew I couldn’t ask it of him.

“Okay,
Tommy,” I said. “It’s okay.”

Twenty

The
day I had been dreading for so long had arrived. I congratulated myself on
having staved off the birthday party that almost inevitably would have been
staged by my well-meaning friends and family and looked forward to a matinee
performance of
Jersey Boys
, the show
Ginny and
Rog
had enjoyed so much, followed by a
quiet dinner with Armando.

First,
though, we were meeting Margo and John at the diner for a quick cup of coffee.
Halloween or not, my partners had informed me they both had full schedules for
the day. Margo had several showings during the afternoon, and
Strutter
had yet another open house at a Maple Street
property that remained stubbornly unsold after nearly four months. “Today is
the day,” she had told me that morning on the phone. “I can feel it in my
bones. Sorry I can’t join you for coffee, but duty calls, so happy birthday, Girl.
Here’s to the next fifty!”

I
laughed at her optimism. “Thanks for the thought anyway. Good luck with that
open house.”

As
we turned onto Charter Road and drove toward the Town Line Diner, I enjoyed my
opportunity to view the Halloween decorations on display. It was possible to
pick out the houses where children were in residence by the arrays of
jack-o’-lanterns on the front steps and the skeletons, witches and black cats
dangling from trees and bushes. I knew that by five o’clock the neighborhood
streets would be alive with little ghosts and goblins, discreetly chaperoned by
watchful parents, who would collect more candy than they could eat in a
lifetime.

When
we arrived at the diner, Marianna directed us to a booth near the far end of
the counter, where John and Margo were already seated. “Good thing we timed
this early,” John commented. “They’re setting up inside for a huge anniversary
luncheon. One of the waitresses here is celebrating her fiftieth anniversary,
can you believe it? The place will be packed in another hour.”

I
thought about which waitress that might be. “Must be Janice,” I concluded. “She
surely doesn’t look old enough, but she’s been married forever—and to the same
guy.” We all smiled at our respective second spouses as Sherri filled our coffee
cups.

“I
hear you’re having a birthday today, so the coffee’s on the house,” she grinned
and vanished on her rounds before I could even thank her.

“Sorry,”
John apologized. “I spilled the beans.”

Margo
raised her cup to me. “On the subject of not
lookin
’
your age, Sugar, here’s to
turnin
’ fifty. Nobody
would ever guess it by your appearance.”

It
was high praise, coming from the former beauty queen. We
clinked
cups, and I determinedly changed the subject. “This is one month I’m glad to
put behind us. Who knew that old people’s lives were filled with so much drama?
My illusions of a peaceful retirement are pretty much shot.”

This
time it was Armando’s turn to laugh. “I have not had that dream for many years,
Cara
. I believe it left me around the
time I realized I would be spending my retirement years with you. Interesting?
Yes.
Peaceful?
Never.”
He
shrugged. “Life is
,
how do you call it, a trade-out,
is it not?”

“Trade-off,”
I corrected, “and you’re absolutely right. Otherwise, I never would have ended
up with a pack rat whose bedroom looks like the storage area at Goodwill.”

“Nor
I with someone who must have everything in its place at all times,” he
retorted.

 
“Guess we’ll just have to make the best of
it,” I smiled at him.

While
we continued to chat, I could hear Marianna greeting and seating people in the
back room.

“If
we’re going to order anything but coffee, we’d better do it,” John observed.
“That anniversary party is about five minutes from launching.”

“Better
Janice than me,” I said and turned to look over my shoulder at the milling
guests. Balloons now bounced along the ceiling, and streamers trailed festively
from them over the tables. “That’s quite a turnout. I’m happy for Janice and
her husband that so many of their friends came to be with them.”

“Real
friends will do that,” Margo agreed with a giggle, and as if on cue, the crowd
began to sing.

“Happy
birthday to you, happy birthday to you …”

“That’s
funny,” I said. “I thought this was supposed to be an anniversary party.” My
eyes narrowed as some of the patrons began to look very familiar.

“Happy
birthday, dear Ka-ate …”

I
whirled on Armando in horror. “We got you,” he grinned, and I wanted to
strangle him.

As
the guests cheered and laughed, Armando and the rest of the traitors in my
booth half led, half dragged me into the back room where Emma, Joey, Justine,
Strutter
and her entire family, and a dizzying collection
of friends and neighbors waited to greet me. The
Henstock
sisters waved gaily from a booth, as did my neighbor Mary Feeney. Emma and Joey
came to intercept us. Both looked plenty worried, as well they might.

“Do
you have any idea how sorry I am that I had you right now?” I told them from
between clenched teeth.

“Ma,
straighten out your face. You look like you’re about to be guillotined,” Joey
pleaded.

“I
begged them not to do this,
Momma,
you have no idea
how hard, but look!” Emma pointed to a very large man in a brown dog suit,
moving from table to table. He appeared to be collecting cash donations for
some cause. “No gifts, I managed to win that vote. Instead, there’s a volunteer
from the pet rescue society collecting contributions in your name.”

I
actually felt faint. “You are collecting money from our friends and neighbors
at a party to which you invited them? What could you be thinking?” I looked
around furtively. “Good lord, is there anyone you didn’t coerce into attending
this fundraiser? I’m surprised you didn’t bag Michael and Sheila into …”

“Daddy!”
Emma announced
loudly over my shoulder, and Joey grinned broadly.

“Glad
you could make it, Pop.”

I
pasted a phony smile on my face and turned around to confront Sheila, stylish
and composed as always, although a bit perplexed at the moment, and Michael,
whose eyes positively glittered with amusement.

“Oh,
I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he assured us. I just barely
resisted the urge to kick him smartly in the shins. Other than my offspring,
Michael was the one person in the world who knew how much I loathed the
contrived festivity and commercialism of birthday parties for adults, which had
become worse than Christmas. I had spent years trying to persuade him that I
was entitled to my point of view, however different it might be from his, but
he had remained convinced that one day I could be brought into the mainstream.
This was the party he had wanted to throw me for twenty years, and somebody had
finally pulled it off.

It
was then that I had the epiphany, what Oprah used to call an “aha moment.” This
event wasn’t about me, I realized. It was about my relatives and friends and neighbors
and colleagues who really did love and appreciate me and wanted to let me know
it. They didn’t mean to upset me. They just couldn’t figure out how else to do
it, so was I really going to spoil it for them?

I
looked around for the guy in the dog suit and couldn’t help laughing. He had
linked one hairy arm through Armando’s and was patting my husband’s pockets,
looking, he said, for a dog biscuit or a large amount of cash. He slipped
Armando’s wallet out of his back pocket and woofed joyously.

“Serves
you right,” I said under my breath as I clapped with the others.

After
that I surrendered to my fate, to
everyone’s
enormous
relief, and let the events wash over me. The hell with it, I thought. At least
it’s for a good cause. I even managed to smile at the appropriate
moments,
although I had the feeling it was probably a
mistake. If they believed I was truly enjoying myself, they would be encouraged
to do it again.

The
breakfast buffet was sumptuous, and we put aside worries about thickening
waistlines to dig in. I found a spot at the long center table between Emma and
Justine and prepared to enjoy my western omelet. As I forked in my first bite,
I waved gaily at Joey, who was now having his pocket picked by the hirsute
volunteer.

“How
are you feeling?” I asked Justine.
“Just a couple of months
to go before the big event, eh?”

She
sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “It seems like forever. I’m already as big as
a barn, and they tell me this is when the baby really starts gaining weight. At
least it isn’t hot anymore.”

I
nodded, remembering. “Thank goodness for that. Any plans afoot for a baby
shower yet?”

“Oh,
god,” she groaned, looking around at the guests and decorations and food and
noise. “Do I have to?”

“Sorry,
but it’s really the quickest way to acquire everything you’ll need for the
baby.” She made a face, and I thought perhaps I had found a kindred spirit
among my tribe at last.

Emma
nudged me.
“Heads up.
Here comes the birthday cake.”

I
suppressed a groan of my own at the thought of all those candles. “Please tell
me you didn’t do this to me.”

“Okay,
I didn’t do this to you. Armando and Sherri did.” To my relief, Armando
approached, carrying a very small plate. Instead of a gaudy cake laden with a
conflagration of candles, he carried a single bagel “frosted” with my favorite
strawberry jam. One chunky candle occupied the center hole. I looked up at him
gratefully as he put the dish down before me and kissed my cheek. During
another chorus of “Happy Birthday,” I found myself giving some thought to what
my wish should be. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and wished with all my might that
none of my family members would ever throw me another party. I blew out the
candle in one whoosh.

“Bagels
for everybody,” Sherri announced and began making the rounds with a basket
heaped with the fresh rolls.

“What
did you wish, Momma,” Emma asked, “as if I didn’t already know?”

“Not
telling,” I teased her. “It might not come true.”

All
things considered, it hadn’t been so bad, I admitted an hour later as I thanked
and said goodbye to the last of the guests. Emma went out to the parking lot
with Joey to get Justine settled into the car. I was pleased to see no trace of
wistfulness in her expression as she waved them on their way. She looked
relieved and totally at peace with her decision. Even Armando agreed that he no
longer saw a baby in her eyes, at least for now.

I
went in search of the pet rescue volunteer and found him counting what looked
to be a goodly amount of cash in a corner booth. He had removed the headpiece
of his costume and unzipped the front. He now looked like a slightly graying,
rather sweaty patron in hairy pajamas.

“How
did we do?” I asked, curious despite my discomfort at having hit on my guests
for donations.

“Very
nicely indeed,” he responded, “even though it’s Sunday. I was a little worried
about that.”

“Why
would that have any effect on contributions?”

“Church,”
he said matter of
factly
. “Most of these folks
attended a service somewhere this morning, and
it’s
pass-the-plate day. Makes it tough to get them to open their wallets a second
time, but we did all right, more than all right. We thank you.”