The Comfort of Lies (39 page)

“Those people aren’t the only ones who can give your daughter a terrific life,” he’d said. “She can have her real mother
and
everything material she needs. You don’t need to sacrifice anymore, hon. By the way, did you call the lawyer?”

She looked away when he asked that dreaded question, as he did more often every week, always using that damned pretend-casual voice. Bobby had become obsessed with having Savannah.

It couldn’t happen.

Going after Savannah would become the lead story in things she’d done wrong since meeting Nathan, but every time she meant to tell Bobby, she ended up having another drink.

Last night she’d had beer, scotch, and shots of Sambuca. She should have needed a bucket next to the bed this morning, but coffee and a couple of aspirin would take care of her. That was a bad sign. Being able to drink so much without getting sick showed that her body was further acclimating to large amounts of alcohol. Visits to Fianna’s were going from weekends to too many weekdays. How soon before it became every night?

Still groggy, Tia stumbled through the sleek grey living room and into the bathroom, seeking the relief of a shower.

Hot water beat on her head and shoulders. She bent over, leaning her hands against the white tile, trying to breathe in courage with the steam.

Taking special care as she chose her clothes, she buttoned up a white silk blouse and tucked it into a black pencil skirt, staring at the photos of Savannah that Bobby had framed.

She sat on the bed to make her sick call. She hated lying to Sister Patrice, but she couldn’t begin to formulate how to be honest about the complicated truth she faced.

 • • • 

Marine Gardens Senior Living in South Boston was walking distance from the Sugar Bowl walkway, Tia’s hangout as a kid. The large blue building with deeper blue shutters faced the ocean, providing a clear view. Only a roadway and traffic stood between Marine Gardens and the beach.

Mrs. Graham waited in the lobby, her hands clasped in her lap. Tia had called the staff to let them know she was coming.

“Hey, Marjorie.” Tia sat next to the old woman and sank into the soft flowered couch. Apple air freshener, disinfectant, and furniture polish covered odors associated with assisted living homes. A wide mahogany table covered by an outsized silk flower display overwhelmed the achingly clean room.

“You’re right on time.” Mrs. Graham patted her stiff patent leather pocketbook in nervous rhythm as she spoke.

“And you’re as prompt as ever. That’s such a good quality.” Tia
reached for Mrs. Graham’s hand. “Marjorie, I’m so sorry I haven’t come before today.”

Mrs. Graham’s pale blue eyes widened. “Oh, no, dear. I never expected you to come here. Why would you want to see me after what I did? Goodness, you’re not the one needing to apologize. I put you in an awful position.”

Tia bit her lip against apologizing for all the ways she’d failed the Grahams. Mrs. Graham didn’t need to take care of her by providing absolution, and Tia had no right to seek it from her.

“What you did took courage, Marjorie, and I should have been here long ago.”

Mrs. Graham shook her head, even as a glow of hope lit her face. “Oh. That’s lovely to say, but nobody would believe it.”

“I do.”

“Really?” Mrs Graham squeezed Tia’s hand. “Most people think I’m a criminal. I’m not exactly popular here. Hardly anyone invites me to play cards, or sit with them during the movies.”

“That’s just plain mean. And uncalled for.” Tia pressed Mrs. Graham’s delicate hand back. Gently. She took a deep breath. “I’m jealous of you. I’m jealous of Mr. Graham.”

Bright September sun lit the room. Every line etched in Mrs. Graham’s face stood out in sharp relief. Uncertainty and disbelief shaded her expression. “Why in the world would you be jealous of either of us?”

“I’m jealous of you for loving someone so much that you’d put your freedom on the line for him. I’m jealous of your husband, for having someone love him that much. Your last years were hard, very hard. You were so good to him.”

Tears spilled down Mrs. Graham’s cheeks as Tia spoke.

“You did the very best you could,” Tia continued. “No one helped you. You took care of Sam, just like he’d always taken care of you. Then you did what you could to make it easier for him to step away from his pain and confusion.”

Mrs. Graham opened her purse, drew out a white handkerchief, and dabbed the thin skin under her eyes. “I miss him every day. He
wouldn’t recognize me, but I’d know him. But I can’t see him. That’s my punishment.”

“It must be awful not seeing him.” Tia bent down to get the large tote bag she’d brought. She reached in and took out a large tin decorated with embossed pictures of needle and thread. “Here. I brought this for you. It’s small comfort, but it’s something I think you’ll like.”

Mrs. Graham took it. “Thank you, dear. I wish my eyes were better so I could sew like I used to.”

Tia shook her head and then put her finger to her lips to indicate that stealth was required. She looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then pried off the lid to reveal an assortment of red and black licorice. “I thought you might have a hard time getting this here.”

Mrs. Graham smiled as though Tia had brought down the stars from heaven. “Oh! Thank you, dear. You have no idea how I’ve missed my licorice.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Tia leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “That’s why I put it in the sewing tin.”

“Don’t worry about getting me in trouble. I don’t think it can get any worse for me, do you?”

Tia laughed. “Probably not.”

“You were a good girl to come, Tia.”

“I’ll come again, I promise. But I might be going away soon, and when I do, I’ll write to you. I want to stay in your life. And I’ll keep you supplied with licorice. I promise.”

“I’m glad you can finally call me Marjorie.”

Tia snuck a piece of candy from the tin and popped it in her mouth. “Me too.”

 • • • 

Tia changed from pumps to sneakers and then walked from Mrs. Graham’s nursing home to the Sugar Bowl. She made the loop twice, peering through the fog to get a look at Thompson Island in the distance, watching the seagulls go after trash, and nodding at familiar-looking people running, walking dogs, and riding bikes.

Tia and her friends drank their first six-packs at the Sugar Bowl. They smoked their first joints, drank repulsively sweet fruit brandy, and played musical couples. Tia lost her virginity here at the Sugar Bowl.

On that particular Friday night, Tia had already drunk four Buds when Kevin tapped out a line of coke. They shared numbed kisses. He took her down to where they could step out on the rocks, seeking a particular flat one that Kevin swore existed. When they found it, Kevin wordlessly covered the cold surface with his jacket. Sixteen-year-old Tia couldn’t imagine anything more tender.

Now she needed to find a way to cover that cold surface in a better way. Tia couldn’t rely on covering up the rock with some guy’s jacket, nor should that be her dream of rescue.

She and Bobby would never last. It was time to pull the plug.

Despite the clouds, she whipped out her sunglasses to cover up her tear-streaked face. She’d been fooling herself; she was good at that, wasn’t she?

Jesus, she wanted him as her brother, not her husband; that’s how she loved him. Given enough time, he’d bring out all of her worst qualities.

With Nathan, even if his love hadn’t been real, hers had been true. She’d felt wide open when she was with him, and she wanted that again. But this time she wanted it with someone who loved her, and whom she loved back.

Not Bobby. In the back of her mind, she’d always known that even as he kept her safe, she’d always stay small in that comfort.

Tia squinted at the crowd around Sullivan’s at Castle Island as she approached the restaurant’s parking lot. Fried food scented the air. Bobby waved, breaking into a huge smile, and holding out his arms. She’d called him to meet her. It was time to make a choice. She could let him buy her a frankfurter, or she could break his heart and a little piece of her own.

If she stayed with Bobby, eventually she’d call the lawyer about Savannah, no matter how wrong it would be to choose that path. The temptation was too strong, and Tia couldn’t resist much longer.
Bobby had begun mapping out her life, and hiring the attorney would be part of implementing his plan.

But it was too late. She didn’t want anybody choosing her path. Or Savannah’s.

Some things you never know, but she was certain of this: her little girl already lived with her mother and father. Too little, too late. That’s what going to the lawyer meant. It wasn’t only a pipe dream, Tia didn’t even think it was really her dream. Not like that.

A court battle could only hurt Savannah. It wouldn’t be for her daughter, it would be for herself. If giving up her baby had been selfish, going after her would implement a scorched-earth policy.

Being with Bobby would be like that also. Leaving now would hurt him, but marrying him would end up devastating them both. She could never be the other half of Bobby.

 • • • 

Ice slicked the roads as Bobby drove her to the airport six months later. The stormy March weather forced them to stop twice so Bobby could get out and scrape ice off the windshield. She prayed her plane would take off.

“Thank you for keeping the ring.” Bobby glanced away from the expressway traffic for a moment. He pressed her hand tight, driving with one hand. “Put it on once in a while, so you remember me. No pressure. I promise.”

He was a good man. Tia hated remembering the day she broke their engagement and his heart, but she would never put that ring on again. Of course, if she did, at least men would leave her alone while she figured out her life, though Robin swore it would be man catnip. “They’ll beg you for dates, knowing you’re unavailable,” she had advised.

Tia didn’t want men like that anymore.

Six years before, after she and Nathan broke up, Tia had walked for hours every day. She walked until she was too tired to do anything but work and sleep. She rented movies simply because they starred
actors who resembled Nathan. She looked for him everywhere. She saw him everywhere. Eighty-year-old women in wheelchairs looked like Nathan from a distance.

Tia roamed the city praying to see him. What had she been thinking? That if he saw her, he’d once again become the man who she’d imagined would make her life into a fairy tale?

Nathan never knew her, and she’d never known him. She’d made him into a character, filling in every blank with magical qualities she’d attributed to him. His natural caring she redrew as their soul-mate attachment. She’d redrawn his sexual craving into once-in-a-lifetime love. And his family? Tia had blurred them into a barely visible pastel, which until she’d imagined his leaving his wife and sons would produce no more than a short period of disarray, far away from her own awareness. Somehow she’d believed the lies she told herself. As much as Nathan hurt her, she had hurt Juliette.

Now she wondered if Nathan’s unavailability had made him desirable. The thought appalled her, but she had to consider it.

More than anything, Tia was ready to discover a world outside her own head. Moving back to Southie would have meant following the same map day after day.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad.

But maybe it was.

They arrived at Logan Airport in silence. Bobby took her luggage from the trunk, and then stood and stared at her. She kissed him good-bye, holding on longer than she’d expected. “You know I’ll always care about you, don’t you?” she asked.

“But not the way I want, right?” He held her out at arm’s length. Snowflakes fell around them. She brushed ice crystals from his shoulders. “Can you stay open to the thought of us?” he asked.

“Oh, Bobby. Promise me something.”

“Name it,” he said.

“Meet the right girl.” Tia hoped the moisture on Bobby’s face was only rainwater. “You have to do that for me.”

“I don’t know if I can, because I think I already have.”

Tia didn’t have the heart to tell him what she knew. She still
hadn’t met her true love. She wished she could take away Bobby’s unhappiness, but sometimes you could only save your own life.

 • • • 

As the plane rose away from Boston, she dug her nails into her thighs until she thought she’d shred her black jeans. She kept glancing at the guy sitting next to her. She had no idea of plane etiquette, but she knew enough to refrain from following her instinct to grab his hand. She’d keep it together until the antihistamine Robin had advised taking kicked in and made her sleepy.

They should pair seatmates with an eye toward reassurance, coupling rookies with experienced parental types, the sort for whom helping conferred a sense of importance.

Unfortunately, the guy to her right hadn’t looked up once. She peeked at his ring finger and saw a gold band. He had the
New York Times
folded in the perfect manner used by smart travelers. Tia unwelded her fingers from her legs and reached for the book she’d brought. A sustaining read, a reread, one she prayed would keep her company well enough that she wouldn’t start screaming from fear or order a miniature bottle of courage when the flight attendant offered.

Boston spread under her as they flew away from the place she’d never left. They were still close enough that she could recognize landmarks, including South Boston jutting into the ocean.

She’d given up a lot, right? She wasn’t running away. Much of what had been offered had made her mouth water. A man who’d care for her. A home on the water. Security. A package her mother would have loved for Tia.

That life would have sunk her. Maybe the world was made up of two kinds of people: those who flourished by staying in native soil, and those who, like Robin, needed to find the place that held the right nutrients for their souls. Tia now thought she might also be that kind of person.

She blinked in and out of pill-induced groggy sleep during the flight to San Francisco, dreaming of her past and future.

She couldn’t be certain that California would feel like home, but
being with Robin, her only real family in this world, was a good place to start. She touched her time-softened copy of
Anne of Green Gables: Three Volumes in One
, which her mother had given her so long ago. Orphan makes good—it was the story she wanted to reread.