Family Inheritance (30 page)

Helene put her pen down. “Sure. What would you like to know?” She wasn't sure what
she could tell him. It had been so many years since she had interacted with her mother
that she really didn't know much about her. Except that she was lying in a coma until
her body finally shut down and she died.

“Where is she now, and how is she doing?”

These questions she could answer. “She's in a full-care nursing home in Minneapolis,
not too far from where Alice and the kids now live.” Sorrow tugged at her heart.
“At this stage, she won't recover from the coma. The doctor says her heart will one
day just stop beating. Until then, we'll keep her as comfortable as we can.”

“Was she a good mother?”

Helene scanned the memories of her childhood. True, when she was at her childhood
home, she had remembered the cookies and fry bread, and those were good memories.
But her son was asking if Anna had been a good mother. Helene sadly shook her head.
“She wasn't the type of mother that I wanted or needed, but now I understand that
she did the best she could. Her life was very different than mine, and it was very
hard. She was just a girl when she was forced to marry my father, and he wasn't a
kind man.”

“Did he yell a lot?”

She didn't have to think much to reply to that question. Her recollections of her
dad were filled with visions of him yelling, screaming, or ranting. “Yes, he did.
And he was often physically mean to all of us.”

“You mean he hit you?”

“He did.” Helene's mind flashed back to the many times she, Alice, and Suzanne had
suffered the lash of his belt or a brutal slap from his large hand, but she wasn't
about to share those specific memories with Thomas.

Thomas munched on his second cookie. “Did you love him?”

Helene paused for several minutes as her mind formulated her answer. “It's hard to
love someone like that. We feared him, but I don't remember having any other feelings
associated with my father, especially not love or affection.

“I'm really lucky,” Thomas said. “I get mad at you and Dad, especially Dad, but I
certainly know I love both of you very much.”

“That's good to hear.” Helene reached over and took a piece of his cookie, and he
offered her a sip of his milk.

“Why do you think Grandpa was so mean?”

“I really don't know.” Helene walked over to the counter and grabbed each of them
another cookie. “He was an alcoholic, and that probably exacerbated the issue, but
I don't know where all the anger came from. I don't know a lot about his life or
his childhood. His parents died when I was very young and Mom wouldn't talk about
them.”

“What about Grandma's parents?”

“I don't know much about them either. My Mom was pretty closed-mouthed about anything
that had to do with my grandparents. Her dad died when I was about four, and her
mom died when I was six. One day I'll show you pictures of my family.”

“You have pictures?”

“A box of them.”

“Why haven't I ever seen them?”

“I've kept them hidden,” she said as she tousled his hair.

“Don't mess with my hair,” he teased. Becoming serious again, he asked, “Why would
you hide pictures?”

“Why do we do any of the things we do? I surely don't know.” And she didn't know.
Why had she hidden the photos away in the attic for over twenty years? Whatever negative
power they once had no longer existed.

“Then, it all makes sense,” Thomas said.

“What makes sense?”

“Why you didn't stay in touch with your family.”

“How does that make sense?”

“Well, from what I've learned in school, kids pretty much learn what
they've lived
and you learned that family wasn't special, and for that matter, wasn't even supposed
to be talked about.”

Helene leaned back against her chair and gazed at her son. “When did you get to be
so smart?” Sometimes her son had a homegrown logic that was beyond his years of earthly
experience.

“It's in my DNA,” he grinned.

Helene got up, stood behind him, and wrapped her arms around her son. “You, my precious
son, teach me so much.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he hugged her back, untangled himself from the embrace, and took his
glass to the sink.

Helene walked to the window, gazed out at the blue sky, and said a prayer of gratitude.

Chapter 36

Anoka, Minnesota

It was the first week of December of 1990, and the Christmas tree stood in the corner
of the main room of the halfway house. Its branches were bare and ready to hold the
decorations. Six adults sat on the floor in a semicircle in front of the tree, quietly
talking.

“Christmas has never been a good time for me.” Frank frowned as memories seemed to
surround him. “If there wasn't some kind of crises going on around me, I made one.
I feel really bad about the awful memories I gave my kids.”

Frank was almost thirty-five and had two children, but Suzanne knew he hadn't seen
them for a while. She had gotten to know the stories of all the people in the halfway
house. In fact, several others had already left. Six months was the maximum time
that anyone could stay here. Most people stayed two to four months, but Suzanne had
been here seven weeks and planned to stay as long as she could. She didn't want to
think of leaving. She didn't want to go back and face her old life, but she knew
she had to. But not until her maximum time here had been used up. In the meantime,
she would take it one day at a time and continue to find her balance and try to figure
out her life. First, she would enjoy a special Christmas surrounded by the people
here in the house. Her first Christmas of sobriety. She was excited and scared.

“It's the Christmas season,” Rosanne, a forty-five-year-old lawyer, added. “Let's
talk of hope and what we want from the future. I'm so tired of the past.
I've been
dealing with my past for months now.” A childish gleam appeared in her eyes. “Let's
make Christmas wishes. I used to make birthday wishes, so let's start a new tradition—Christmas
wishes.”

“Okay,” Eric, an ex-professional football star whose addiction ruined his career,
joined in. “We'll take turns putting ornaments on the tree, and for every ornament,
we'll make a Christmas wish.”

“Aloud or in private?” Frank asked.

“Aloud,” Rosanne insisted. “Who wants to go first?”

They all hung back. No one wanted to go first. She knew she didn't. She wasn't about
to take a chance of feeling stupid.

“I will.” Sherice stepped forward. She was twenty-five years old and had been on
drugs since she was fifteen. From the talks they'd had, Suzanne knew that Sherice
had done everything imaginable to support her drug use. She had been trying to kick
the habit for close to five years. She had never made it very far. This time she'd
been drug-free for four months. Suzanne admired the girl. She had no college education,
no job skills—she had to start from scratch. Yet her strength and determination seemed
to often surpass everyone else in the house.

Sherice stood over the box of decorations and contemplated the collection of handmade
ornaments that were created by previous “guests,” as they laughingly called themselves.
Reaching into the box, she gently pulled out a tissue-paper dove whose wings flapped
precariously. “This dove reminds me of me. He has the appearance of a misfit, like
he could never fly, but his ability and strength go way beyond the surface of his
looks.” She placed the bird on the tree. “I wish for love—the unconditional kind.”

Eric went next. He selected a star. “I want another chance to play football, and
I want to be a star again. But this time, I want to use my fame productively.”

“God, this is getting sappy.” Stella, the hard-nose of the bunch, stood. She grabbed
an ornament. “I just want to get on with life. I've wasted so damn much of mine that
I just want to get out of this place and start living.”

“What do you think living is?” Frank asked. “It's day by day, remember? This, kiddo,
is part of living.”

“Yes,” Suzanne reflected, “enjoy the process. That's what my older sister keeps saying—enjoy
the process.”

“So what's your wish, Suzanne?” Frank turned toward her.

“I don't know.” Suzanne gazed bewilderedly at him. “I don't think I ever learned
to wish.”

“You must have wished as a kid.”

“Sure, I used to wish my father would leave me alone or die. But I don't think I
did happy wishing.”

“Well, think happy,” Rosanne urged. “If you could have anything, what would you want?”

Suzanne thought for several moments. “Another chance at my marriage.”

The room became quiet. Suzanne had talked about everything else in their group sessions,
but never about her marriage except to say that she had been married.

“Why?” Sherice broke the silence.

“Because I was so happy for a short time.”

“Couldn't you be happy again in another situation?” Rosanne inquired.

“I don't know, and I'm not sure I'm willing to try. I think I had a chance at the
very best and blew it. How could anyone ever compete with Stephen?”

“Why should they have to?” Frank asked. “You can't go back, Suzanne, but you can
go forward. And you're not the same person now. Are you sure you're not living in
a fairytale land of memories and have Stephen on a pedestal where he doesn't belong?”

Suzanne turned angry. “I didn't pick your wishes apart, so leave mine alone.” An
awkward silence settled in the room.

“Okay, my turn,” Rosanne chimed in, breaking the tension. “My wish has already come
true. I'm going to be able to practice law again. And I can't think of anything I
want more.” She paused. “Yet, I'm scared. It's a stressful career. Before I handled
the stress by drinking. What will I do now? I don't know.”

The phone rang in the hall off the kitchen. Frank rose to get it. “Suzanne. For you.”

Suzanne was glad for a reason to leave the group. She just wanted to
decorate the
tree. She couldn't handle making wishes and putting all this heavy feeling into Christmas.
She was dealing with too many feelings right now as it was. She'd just blurted out
her deepest feelings, and they betrayed her by picking her wish to pieces. She didn't
do that to theirs, and she was hurt at their response.

“Hello?” Suzanne said into the phone.

“Hi, boss. A very early Merry Christmas.”

“Hi, Melanie!” Suzanne was delighted to hear her secretary's voice. Melanie had called
Suzanne every other week since Suzanne had been gone. Their boss–employee relationship
had grown into a deep friendship and Melanie was Suzanne's advocate in the world
to which she would return, unless she figured out another option.

“How are you?” Melanie asked.

“Oh, Melanie, it's so good to hear your voice.” The caring in Melanie's voice cut
into the hurt and dejection that Suzanne had carried over from the wishing scene
and and she blurted out, “I'm so scared, lonely, and bewildered.”

“I thought everything was going okay,” Melanie said hesitantly.

“It was, I mean, it is. But this isn't where I need to be, and I realized that when
I heard your voice. Yet, I'm too scared to come back to where I was. I'm in limbo.
I've outgrown the treatment process here. I need to take what I've learned and go
on, but I'm scared to death.”

This was a new realization for Suzanne. Just hours ago, she was content to be right
where she was. Now it was not okay. Over the weeks of working her twelve-step program,
Suzanne had learned to trust her higher power. She still couldn't think of her higher
power as the God she felt deserted her in her childhood, but she had learned to trust
in a power greater than herself. Over the months, her higher power had gently led
her through steps of growth, and tonight she had gone through another one.

“It will be okay, Suzanne,” Melanie soothed. “I'll help you. Everybody here is supportive.
Believe it or not, the rumors have been kept to a minimum.” She tried to insert some
humor into a heavy moment.

“Do they all still think I'm handling family matters?”

“That excuse is wearing thin.” Melanie paused. “But since Mr. Warren and I know the
truth, and we're both supportive, what does it matter? He's your boss. I'm your secretary
and friend. What else do you need?”

Suzanne smiled. “You are my friend, Melanie. And I'm glad, but I'm worried about
that too.”

“Why?”

“Will we still be able to work together so well now that you know I'm an alcoholic?
Will you still respect me? I mean, it's been great to share with you about treatment
and all I've been going through, but now that I'm going to be coming back, I don't
know if it's such a good idea.”

Melanie's voice was soft and caring. “I respect you even more now that you've gone
through treatment, and I understand you better. Besides, I've been reading about
recovering alcoholics.”

“You have? Why?”

“Because I care about you, and I want to help.”

“I've never had anybody care enough about me that they'd actually do research.” Suzanne
grinned. “So, what do you know about me?”

“I know you need support people in every phase of your life. We nonalcoholics call
those people friends. I was one before, I'm still one, and I'll continue to be one.
Maybe it takes special people to work together and be friends, but we're special—so
it's a cinch.”

“I'm so glad you're part of my life.”