Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (48 page)

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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Fiction, #Domestic Fiction, #General, #Sagas, #Women - South Carolina, #South Carolina, #Mothers and Daughters, #Women, #Sisters, #Sullivan's Island (S.C. : Island), #Sullivan's Island (S.C.: Island)

BOOK: Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1
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all of us here today. Please let us live in peace. Amen.”

“Amen,” we said again.

Tom’s eyes were filled with tears. I held on and was grateful

when the talk and chatter of the holiday began. I lifted the

tureen and began to fill the soup plates.

“Pass the biscuits, Grant,” Maggie said. “Gosh, Susan, that

soup smells so good!”

“It’s divine and it should be. After all, you made it!”

“Not too much, Susan, I want to save myself for the turkey!”

Tom said.

“Grace was so nice,Tom, thank you,” I said.

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

“I meant it.”

“I know you did,” I said.

The meal began with a Lowcountry specialty—oyster

stew, which we had served every Thanksgiving I could

remember. We had so many dishes of food that the buffet had

to be set up on my kitchen island.Turkey, stuffing, giblet gravy,

glazed ham, collard greens, creamed rutabagas, creamed beets

in orange sauce, fresh peas and onions, corn pudding, string

bean casserole, candied sweet potatoes, a huge green salad,

homemade biscuits, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, mincemeat pie

and a whipping cream pound cake with lemon sauce. Over the

next hour, we got up and helped ourselves until we could eat

no more.

No one talked about the Thanksgiving when Daddy and

Sophie had died, thank the Lord. We had beaten that horse to

death over the years. No, we just ate and laughed, and the house

was filled with good spirit and outrageous lies about fishing

trips and athletic accomplishments.

“Let’s have dessert later,” I said, finally.

“I’m so tired of chewing my jaw hurts,” Grant said.

“Let’s go in the living room for a little bit,” Maggie said.

“Beth, honey? Switch on the coffeemaker, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Beth said.

I read somewhere that there’s something in turkey that makes

you sleepy. It must be true. Maggie’s boys and Beth did all the

dishes while I fell half-asleep on the couch in the living room. I

could vaguely hear Grant,Tom and Maggie talking over the noise

of a third football game on the television. I loved having them all

in my house. My house now, but part of Tom would always be

here.

Finally, the television was turned off and somebody pulled

an afghan over me. I heard Beth saying good night, exchanging

kisses and was relieved that my sister’s family understood that I

was too wiped to get up. After a while, my radar told me Tom

was still in the house. I knew he was hanging around for some-

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

325

thing. I forced myself to get up, and sure enough, I found him in

the kitchen talking to Beth.

“Dinner was great, Mom.”

“Thanks, doodle. I’m just going to wash my face and try to

revive myself. I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, Susan, it was really a great dinner.”

“Thanks. Stick around, I’ll buy you a sandwich.”

He smiled at me and we were friends at last.

Upstairs, all I wanted to do was get under the covers and

close my eyes. I gave the comforter on my bed a pat and said,

“I’ll be back soon.” My face needed powder and lipstick, which

I applied after brushing my teeth. Somehow brushing my teeth

always wakes me up.

Tom was in the living room waiting for me. “Beth went to

the movies with her girlfriends,” he said.“I told her it was okay.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” I said. “Want some coffee? I have to

wake up.”

“Got any scotch?”

“Sure, help yourself,” I said.

He followed me to the kitchen and filled a glass with ice

and three fingers of alcohol. It was a very strong drink for Tom.

I stirred the milk into my coffee and waited.

“Susan, I want to talk to you about something,” he said.

“Let’s go in the living room.”

“Sure,” I said.

We sat on the couch and he took a giant gulp of his drink.

“Susan, I don’t know how to say this except to come right out

and tell you the truth.”

“Please.”

“Karen and I are not really broken up,” he said.

“You told me last week you were.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you everything,” he said. “We’re just

taking some time off.”

“You don’t have to tell me all this if you don’t want to, you

know. I mean, it’s none of my business.”

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

“I’ve changed my will,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes. My estate is worth nearly two million dollars and I’ve

made Beth the sole beneficiary.The money would be held in a

trust with you as the guardian until she’s thirty.”

“Where on God’s earth did you get two million dollars?”

“My parents left me a huge block of blue-chip stock that I

never told you about.”

Good grief, I thought, another minor secret of our marriage.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

“I have prostate cancer.”

“Tom! Oh, my God! Oh,Tom, I’m so sorry!” I put my arms

around him and he started to cry. Then I did too. I couldn’t help

it.“Come on, now, tell me everything,” I said.

“It’s why I told Beth she could go out. No one knows except

Karen, and I had to tell somebody. . . .”

“When did you find this out?”

“About a month ago. I’m so worried I can’t begin to tell you.”

“Of course you are. Look, darling, it’s gonna be all right.

Prostate cancer is common and they can get it out. We’ll find

you the best surgeon and you’ll be fine!”

“I’m not having the operation,” he said.

“Why not? Is it gone that far? Oh, my God!”

“No, no. It’s in the beginning stages. It’s because—look,
if
I

have the surgery then there’s a large chance that I can’t ever have

sex again.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Tom, they’ve got that new pill.”

“I know, but with the particular kind of cancer I’ve got, they

don’t think it will work for me.”

“Tell me this again. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“It’s why Karen left me. I was going to have the surgery but

she said that if I do and I can’t perform, then it’s over between us

forever. Sex is such a big thing to her and she’s young, Susan. I

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

327

can’t expect her to spend the next fifty or sixty years of her life

not ever having sex.”

“Let’s go back here a little bit. First of all, I can hardly

believe this conversation.This is about you and your health and

your life, for God’s sake.You have a daughter, Tom. Would you

miss seeing Beth get married, holding her children in your

arms, all that can happen in your life for this self-centered little

whore? Have you lost your mind?”

“I knew you’d see it this way.”

“What is that supposed to mean? How else
should
I see it?”

“Look, Susan, this is something you can’t possibly under-

stand.You’re a woman.”

“That’s right. I am. Not a horrible child like Ka—”

“Let me finish, okay?”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Even if I break up with Karen, who else would want a man

who can’t get it up?”

“You are really a damn fool. Who wants women with

mastectomies? Who wants women with hysterectomies? I’ll

tell you. Real men, that’s who.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, but I can’t imagine it . . . never

making love to a woman again.”

“Don’t preach to me about the importance of having a sex

life. I’m something of an expert in that area, and guess what?

I’ve always found plenty to occupy my time and plenty of satis-

faction in those things. And, as long as we’re being so brutally

honest with each other, there’s a long list of what you can do

when making love besides penetration, Tom. Books have been

written about it. Lots of them.”

“So what should I do?”

“Are you serious? You have the surgery, that’s what. Plain

and simple. Look, don’t they have those prosthesis things, a

pump or something to make it work? And they’ll improve the

pill!”

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

“I don’t know about that stuff. I haven’t gone that far yet. I

just got the lab report and went home.”

“Who’s your doctor?”

“Some guy Grant sent me to.Youngworth, I think.”

“Does Grant know?”

“No, I told you, just you and Karen.”

“Well,Tom, I’m not running away to the Himalayas to hide

from you.”

“That’s good.Thanks, Susan.”

“Look, you may have broken my heart and I may have cried

a river over it, but I’m not going to stand by and watch you

throw your life away.”

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He hung his head and wrung his hands. I felt so sorry for

him. He was watching his life slip away and couldn’t decide if it

was worth saving.When he looked up at me, his eyes were tear-

ing. From his breathing, I knew he was on the verge of weeping

again and then the floodgates opened.

“Susan, tell me this. Do you still love me enough to let me

come home? Will you take care of me? Would you do that?”

Tears were streaming down his face.

“Tom, listen to me. There’s a place in my heart that’s

gonna love you until the day I die, but I do not want to live

with you as man and wife, even if you
didn’t
have this terrify-

ing problem. However, you are the father of my only child,

and I will not abandon you if you need me. I will help you

find the best doctors and see that you have the best care.That

much I promise.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go through this

alone.”

“You won’t.”

“I have to think about it. I’m going back to my apartment

now.”

I stood up and gave him a hug.

“Call me tomorrow, okay?” I said.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

329

“I will.”

I looked at the door as it closed behind him. Through the

window I watched him go through the gate and toward his car.

It used to be
our
gate. You could see his terrible sadness in

the back of his shoulders, the way he walked, the way he held

himself. So much had changed. Another Thanksgiving and

another disaster. My head was pounding and my heart raced. I

didn’t want Tom to die.The thought of it terrified me.

Sixteen

Operating in the Christmas Theater

}

1999

T was Wednesday afternoon, December first.Tom had

seen an oncologist that day and I was waiting for him

I to call. We hadn’t told Beth about Tom’s cancer yet,

but Tom had called Grant for advice, so then Maggie and Grant

knew.

Beth and I were searching for Christmas ornaments up in

the dark attic. A single bare lightbulb, with a pull chain of yarn,

was the guardian that saved us from falling through the rafters. It

was a favorite ritual, performed each year with the excitement

of anticipating a birth.The birth of the Christ Child, of course,

but the holidays also marked the end of one year and the birth

of another. And this year had been extraordinary. Beth had

transformed into a young woman and I too had begun a new

life. And there was the rapid approach of the Millennium,

which was sure to bring change to the world.

The ornaments in the boxes chronicled our lives. Some

were shaped like stars, teddy bears and balls that I had stitched

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

331

together and decorated with sequins when Tom and I were first

married. Cookie ornaments by the dozens that Beth and I had

baked together and then shellacked. And every paper chain that

Beth had ever made was somewhere in a box, wrapped with

care in tissue paper.

Tom was very much on my mind as I carried the boxes

down to the living room. It was going to be our first Christmas

without him living in the house and now my heart was heavy

with his illness.

I decided to move the couch and put the tree in front of the

window. I had hoisted one end out about five feet when Beth

came in with another load of decorations.

“Want to give me a hand here?” I said.

She put three boxes on the chair and gave me a small round

of applause before coming to help.

“Very funny, wise guy,” I said. “Let’s push this over on that

wall and move the chairs to the sides of the mirror.”

“Okay. Momma? Do we have to use the fake tree this year?”

“Why not? It doesn’t shed and it looks very real.”

“I’d like just once in my life to smell a real tree, that’s all,”

she said.

“You know what? You’re right. Let’s go get us a real tree! A

big one!”

“What if it dies before Christmas?”

“It ain’t gonna die, because you’re in charge of watering it.”

“Oh, great. Me and my big mouth.”

“Come on. Get your jacket.”

Small forests had sprung up overnight in front of the

grocery stores. I drove west of the Ashley River and Beth was

confused.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Kroger’s.”

“What? We, like,
never
shop there!”

“Well, because it’s not so convenient, but, my dear child, the

front of the store is in the shade. That’s where they have the

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