Second Chances (40 page)

Thursday night had been Girl’s Night for as long as Isabella could remember.  It had begun six years ago at the start of her marriage.  Jessie, who had become Isabella’s best friend on the very first day of sixth grade, had insisted that as long as their friendship had endured, no man was going to come between them.  In the end, the reasonable thing to do was to create a special time just for them.  Isabella had felt guilty at first, until she was reminded that Jack had his bowling night, and his dart night, and stopped for drinks after work more often than not, a habit that caused him to nearly miss Rebecca’s birth five years ago.  Jessie even insinuated he had other hobbies, which, following a particularly vicious argument between the couple had resulted in Kyle’s conception two years ago.

What a rousing Girl’s Night that revelation had provoked.  Isabella had just graduated with her bachelor’s degree and their previous gathering had ended with her ready to pack up her photography gear and take the world by storm.  

“Remember all that hope I was filled with the other day?”  She had asked her best friend and confidante over a late dinner.  “Remember how I was ready to conquer the world?”  She had picked at her stuffed chicken breast lazily.

“Yes,” Jessie had responded nervously.  She waited in silence knowing that if she was just patient long enough, Isabella would divulge the source of the problem.

“It looks like I’m going to have to conquer the maternity ward, first.”  Isabella had looked Jamie in the eye and waited for a reaction.

There was a brief gasp.  Jessie wasn’t sure how to react.  “Are we happy about this?”  She was always quick to lend a shoulder, an ear, or plan the celebration once she had some direction.

“We’re in shock about this.  Good call going with the generic gasp.”  Isabella’s eyes were downcast.  She had always hoped she would be thrilled if she ever found herself pregnant again.  But somehow, this wasn’t the time.  Her life was in a state of turmoil that she had hoped with the realization of a small portion of her dreams, and the completion of her degree, would have her on the right track.  Once again, however, she found herself taking a detour, feeling lost and alone.

“So how did this happen?”  Jessie had asked seriously.

Isabella smirked.  “Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much…” She paused for dramatic effect and continued once she heard Jessie’s giggle.  “Or in our case, when a mommy and a daddy have a really big fight and want to reassure themselves that their relationship can pull through it, sometimes the daddy plans poorly and the mommy thinks that maybe it won’t hurt just this once…”

“Wow,” Jessie said.  “Which fight?”

“Oh, that would be the night that I confronted him over the rumors that he was having an affair with my hair dresser.”   She sighed.

“And the rumors were…
”  Jessie asked tentatively.

“Neither confirmed nor denied.”  She looked around the restaurant then, wondering who might be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Stalemate, huh?”  Jessie sounded sad.

“As usual.”

“So, what are you going to do?”  Jessie had asked with concern.

Isabella sighed.  “I’m adopted.  Even in the worst of situations, abortion would not be an option.”  She swirled her ice water with her straw.  “I know I’m having the baby.  I know I will love it.  And I know that my chances of getting a job now are shot.”

The rest of the conversation that evening had centered on their plans for the future, which Isabella found most reassuring since she had suddenly doubted what her future might hold.  In the end, Jessie had managed to convince her that she should return to graduate school as soon as she had given birth.  And as improbable as it had seemed at the time, Isabella had held onto that thought.

So much had changed over the last two years.  And as always, Jessie had been the catalyst.  Isabella, who had felt so frumpy and ugly after giving birth a second time, had been introduced to Tae Bo classes at the local gym.  As a bribe, Jessie managed to incorporate spa treatments into those excursions.  The best part was that Isabella was able to pay for them and gain some semblance of independence because of a job her graduate professor, Dr. Pam, had helped her attain.  Once again she was becoming the woman she used to be, strong and confident, vivacious and witty, as attractive as she was intelligent.

Drawn back to the present, Isabella sighed.  It was April first, and they were still eagerly awaiting spring in the Adirondacks.  Most importantly, it was Thursday.  All she could think about was finishing up her day so that she could relax with Jessie.  They had decided to meet at The Leaning Pine and enjoy a light dinner in front of the stone fireplace that was sure to be in use on such a chilly evening.  And all that was standing in the way of her coveted girl time was one last photo shoot.

She and her new boss, Christopher, were finishing up looking at some proofs, killing time before the last shoot of the day when the phone rang.  “Blair and Webber Photography, Christopher speaking,” he had said into the mouthpiece using his most professional voice.  There was a pause.  “I just need to verify that you are genuinely serious about canceling your appointment this evening.  Understand that I can be closed in thirty minutes after we hang up.”  He smiled and gave Isabella a ‘thumbs up’.  “So, we’re rescheduling for next week instead.”  He made a face at Isabella.  “Certainly.  We will see you then.”

The two jumped around doing a happy dance.  A heavy burden was lifted from her shoulders.  In twenty minutes she would be free.  The two of them scampered around the studio, straightening up and preparing for the next day.  Getting to leave early was an incredibly rare experience in their line of work.  More often than not they would be running late.

“Want to call Jessie before I lock up?”  Christopher asked with a knowing wink.  He understood about Girl’s Night and approved whole heartedly.

“Thanks,” Isabella said with a giggle.  She often felt like the only person on the planet who didn’t own a cell phone.  Due to her currently limited finances, the choice had been between the cell phone and the spa time.  The phone, no matter how cute or practical, didn’t really stand a chance.  Her fingers skated over the buttons of the business phone and she listened for the ring.

“I have bad news,” Jessie began sadly on the other line. 

“Oh?”  Isabella said quietly.  Already her stomach was knotting.  She knew the direction this conversation was taking.

There was a sigh.  “Well, you know how Jeff can be a
tad
over-protective?”

“Yes?”  Isabella’s disappointment was evident in her voice.

“He doesn’t want me to go.  After that freak storm last night…and he knows how we get talking and lose track of time…”  She let her voice trail off so that Isabella could come to the proper conclusions.

“I understand,” she said dejectedly.  Instantly, her shoulders slumped and she hunched over the counter.

“We’re on for next week, right?”  Jessie tried to sound cheerful and certain.  She knew how much Isabella had come to rely on their time together.

“Of course,” she said, brushing off the sadness.  They hung up and she let loose a long sigh.

Christopher had been watching the entire time.  “No Girl’s Night?”  He asked as Isabella shook her head.  “For a moment there, I thought you were going to cry.”  It was a simple observation.

“Nope,” Isabella said.  “I don’t cry.”

“Never?”  He sounded skeptical.  He hadn’t known a female who didn’t turn on the waterworks on occasion whether genuine or manufactured.

“Not in a long time,” she assured him as memories of that fateful day overwhelmed her.

The day her father left had reshaped her future.  That was the moment when she became an adult before she even became a teenager.  Her grandparents had arrived within minutes of her father’s abrupt departure.  From her bedroom, Isabella could hear them comforting her mother, the woman who drove her father away.  Then she heard a sound she always dreaded.  It was the clicking of her grandmother’s heels in the hall as she headed toward Isabella’s room.  They were insistent, demanding attention, but she tried desperately to ignore them.

Isabella’s grandmother was next to the bed.  Reluctantly, Isabella turned to face her.  She expected her grandmother to comfort her as she had Angelica and her mother.  She longed to be enfolded in those silken arms and be told it would be all right.  Isabella lifted her watery eyes to meet her grandmother’s face.  To her dismay, the woman wore a severe expression.

“Listen to me, Isabella,” she commanded.  Isabella nodded to show she had heard her.  “You have to be the strong one now.  You must take care of your mother.  She’s too weak to do that just now.  And you must take care of dear Angelica.  She’s too little.”  She stared at Isabella, hands knotted together, waiting for a response.

“Yes, grandmother,” she mumbled, eyes watering again.  Her heart ached and burned all at once as silent tears tumbled down her cheeks. 
Who will take care of me
, her mind screamed.  
I hurt, too
.

At first her grandmother seemed satisfied; her hands dropped to her sides.  She moved as though to walk away, then turned back almost as an afterthought.  “Oh, and Isabella...”  Fearful, Isabella looked up to meet her eyes once more.  “Don’t ever let them see you cry.”   At that command, something changed in Isabella forever.  Her eyes ceased to water, Isabella dried her tears for one final time, then glided out to the kitchen, grabbed the broom and headed for the family room where the last fight had taken place.  She didn’t mind the labor.  Cleaning was a mindless task that left her time to think of more pressing issues.

She wasn’t sure what sort of rubble she would be met with, but she faced her new role with determination.  It wasn’t so bad.  The picture frame that held her parents’ wedding photo had been slammed face down, shattering the glass.  On the floor lay the scattered remnants of their engraved crystal wedding flutes.  And somehow, young Isabella knew then that picking up these shattered pieces of her former existence would be as close as she would get to piece her life together for some time.  Once again she forced back the few bothersome tears that refused to heel.  “Don’t ever let them see you cry, Isabella.”  She whispered those words repeatedly until they became her mantra.

Or was it a curse?  From that moment on, Isabella never cried.  She couldn’t cry openly, she refused to cry in isolation.  Tears of sorrow, anguish, heartache, pain of any kind, failed to escape her tear ducts.  She didn’t cry six days later when her first boyfriend, the first boy to ever kiss her, broke up with her.  She didn’t cry six weeks later when her beloved cat had to be put to sleep.  And she still wasn’t crying six months after that when her father, the one person in the family who truly understood her, died of a broken heart.