The Someday List (5 page)

Rachelle attempted a smile.

Jillian's eyes indicated that she understood. "Well, get happy,
okay? For me and for you. You're living for both of us now. I've
never stopped loving you like a sister, you know? Tell God your
heart's desires. Trust him with all of them. That's the only reason all of this is okay-I learned how to do that when I was in Jerusalem."

Rachelle nodded. "I need to book a trip there; maybe it will
clear out some of these emotional cobwebs:'

Jillian shook her head. "That was my place of revelation, but
it's different for everybody," she said. "You don't have to cross
the world to find God. He's already with you. Just open up and
let him in:"

Rachelle hugged Jillian again.

"I love you, Jill, and I am so proud of you," Rachelle whispered
in her ear. "I will tell my children about you and the beautiful
person you've always been. I'll never forget you:'

"I know you won't, Rachelle," Jillian said. "While I can, I will
be praying for you."

When Rachelle walked away, the charge to "be happy" shook
the chambers of her mind.

She thought about Gabe, who treated her like a piece in his
art collection. She thought about her daily routine of playing the
perfect wife, socializing with the proper friends and volunteering
with the appropriate groups just often enough to make the city's
socialite pages. In this moment, it struck her that her children
were her only genuine source of joy.

Rachelle allowed herself to accept these realities tonight as she
thought about Jillian's open charge to embrace truth and happiness. Was she up to this task?

On her way to the back of the dining room, she paused at a
table where Amina, the college buddy she and Jillian had added
to their crew freshman year, sat chatting with their high school
friends, Yolanda and Marcus Drake.

The three of them stood and gave her a hug.

"Can you believe this?" Yolanda asked.

"Only because it's Jill;' Rachelle said.

Amina nodded. "Only she could pull off something like this
and leave her guests with a gift."

Rachelle decided to keep moving before she became a puddle
of raw emotions again. "Stop by my table before you leave tonight
so I can get your number and email address;' she told Amina.

She turned toward the onetime teenage sweethearts, Yolanda
and Marcus. "You two? I still keep track of you in Philly through my
mother. Keep taking care of each other-you both look great"

Rachelle snaked through the rest of the tables until she reached
her destination. Jillian's brother and sister sat with their petite,
Vietnamese mother in the rear of the room at a table that gave
them a clear view of Jillian but allowed other guests to be closer
to her. Though each of them bore some resemblance to their
now-deceased African American father, all of them, including
Jillian, had their mother's eyes.

As Rachelle hugged Jillian's mother, she stroked the long ponytail that Mrs. Wright had worn for as long as Rachelle could
remember. Mrs. Wright clung to her.

"Can you believe my baby?" She spoke quickly and softly, as if
speed would diminish the thickness of her accent. "Who would
throw a homegoing service before they leave earth, other than
Jillian?"

Rachelle wiped a tear from her eye and laughed. She sat next to
Mrs. Wright and draped her arm around the back of the woman's
chair. "I've been thinking the same thing for the past few weeks-I
believe everyone else here has too. But I'm glad she did this. I'm
thankful that she gave me a chance to see her again."

Rachelle settled into her seat and feasted on dessert and conversation with Jillian's family for the rest of the evening. She felt heartsick about her friend's circumstances, but something else in
her spirit was rumbling.

The simmering volcano shook her, because for the first time,
she knew she couldn't ignore it. Not after what she had experienced tonight.

achelle returned to her hotel room that evening determined to honor Jillian's request.

She slid out of her ankle-strap pewter pumps, pulled her cell
phone from her evening bag, and perched on the end of the kingsized bed before flipping open the phone. She tapped the speeddial code for her parents' number and closed her eyes.

She wanted to check on the kids and tell them goodnight, but
she wasn't ready yet to inform them, or her mom and dad, that
she was in San Diego with Jillian. Explaining everything that had
occurred tonight would diminish some of its power.

Instead, she let Tate and Taryn do most of the talking.

"Did you feed Mel and Bob?" Tate wanted to make sure his
fish weren't being neglected.

Rachelle sighed. "Yes, son. I sprinkled quite a bit of food in the
tank yesterday, so they should be fine."

Gram had taken Taryn for her first manicure and the girl was
beside herself. "We sat next to each other while we got our nails
done. The lady who helped me said I could choose my polish color,
and I wanted to put pink on one finger and purple on the next,
but Gram wouldn't let me alternate. So I settled for the pink"

Rachelle inhaled to quash the resentment that threatened to surface. She recalled her mother taking her for a manicure at
about the same age and insisting that she get a "normal" pink
polish, not the sparkly green she had wanted. Mom still had to
control everything.

"When you come home, I'll do your nails in both colors;'
Rachelle told her daughter. "In the meantime, have fun and be
good"

Rachelle ended the call with telephone kisses and took off
the slate blue dress she had worn to Jillian's party. She carefully
folded it and tucked it into her suitcase before pulling out her
red silk pajamas and a gold silk scarf to wrap her hair in for the
night. Her layered locks fell well below her shoulders, and it
was a challenge to manage each night, but she found that when
she wrapped her hair before lying on it, she had fewer split ends
and tangles.

She stood in the bathroom under the bright lights and brushed
her hair around and around her scalp, until finally it was all in
place and she could secure it with the scarf. She brushed her
teeth and hummed "Wind Beneath My Wings;' the song that
one of Jillian's friends from church had sung tonight, before the
party ended.

Those tasks completed, she debated whether to take her shower
first or get started on her list. The eagerness to look at her life
won.

Rachelle turned off the light in the bathroom and settled in
the hotel room's single sofa chair, next to a small round table positioned in front of windows that overlooked the city. From her
twenty-first-floor position, the view was stunning. The pattern of
night lights and intricate web of streets could have been a scene
lifted from an artist's canvas.

San Diego was breathtaking. No wonder Jillian and Patrick had settled here. This seemed like a fitting place to find the inspiration
to pursue one's dreams.

Rachelle stretched an arm to the middle of the table and
grabbed the notepad and pen provided by the hotel. She wrote
her title in big, loopy strokes: Ten Things to Do Before I Turn 50.

After witnessing Jillian's results, she wasn't going to play with
death-she had children to raise. In a few months she would be
thirty-six. That gave her fourteen years to accomplish whatever
goals she outlined.

She sat there, however, and began to fidget. She was ready to
brainstorm, but nothing surfaced. She numbered a sheet of paper
from one to ten and waited.

Her thoughts turned to Tate and Taryn. In minutes, a dozen
ideas of things she wanted to help her children accomplish flowed.
Continuing their piano lessons and taking them to Florida to
witness a space shuttle launch. Teaching them to appreciate all
kinds of food and training them to do more chores.

Her thoughts even turned to Gabe, and what he would put on
this list if he were here crafting it. He would be fifty in six years and
by that time was hoping to spend at least one weekend a month
on their boat. He wanted to be the head of the heart institute at
St. Luke Episcopal Hospital and at a certain level with his private
financial investments.

She had heard him share these plans with his golfing buddies
and with his mother, before she died of a stroke. Rachelle had
always been struck by the fact that while Gabe's father had been
dead for ten years, Gabe still seemed to make choices based on
what his dad expected of him. She often chided him for that habit,
but tonight, she realized that whatever measure he was using to
make decisions, he was a few steps ahead of her.

Rachelle returned her focus to the present, and checked the numbers illuminated on the nearby digital clock. She had been
sitting with her pen poised to write for nearly half an hour, but
the page was still empty.

She knew what would be good for the kids. She could readily
outline Gabe's goals, even though he hadn't articulated them to
her directly. Yet, what did she want to achieve? What were her
heart's burning desires?

She had to put something on paper. Anything. The white space
beside the first number on the page mocked her.

"I want to. . ." Rachelle spoke the words aloud, certain that if
she persisted, the answers would come. "I want to. .

She sighed. Everything she could dream up, she was already
doing.

She didn't have to include travel on the list, because she vacationed often with Gabe and the kids or with her girlfriends. She
didn't need to set financial goals, because the ones Gabe had were
good enough for them both.

She was already at the perfect weight for her five-foot-six frame,
and Pilates three times a week kept her toned. Her almond skin
was healthy and blemish free, and she could shop at just about
any store that caught her fancy.

Surely, though, she was missing something. How had Jillian
managed to compile a list of things that mattered to her soul?
Rachelle wished she were still tight enough with her friend to
call her and ask.

Since that wasn't the case, she tried to imagine what Jillian
would tell her, or would want to tell her, if they were having one
of the candid girlfriend chats that used to be their norm. Jillian,
she suspected, would suggest to her that when she had chosen to
marry Gabe, she had chosen to put herself on the back burner, in
favor of making sure his life reigned supreme.

Rachelle shook that thought from her mind and began writing.

She sighed. This wasn't a first-time something to do before
turning fifty, but at least it was a goal.

She had renewed the license every year since Tate's birth, thinking that someday she might decide to return to the profession she
loved. Gabe had dismissed the idea as farfetched and unnecessary
so many times that about five years ago, she began sending in
her renewal fee to the state licensing board without telling him.
She would not be able to officially practice again until she took
a certain number of continuing education courses, but for now,
just knowing her license was still in good standing helped her
feel good about herself.

Rachelle stalled again. Only one thing on paper? This was ridiculous and frustrating.

She laid the pen and pad on the table and grabbed her pajamas
on the way to the bathroom. She covered her head with a plastic
cap, turned on the shower, and let the forceful stream of water
warm up so she could step inside.

As she stood beneath its flow with her eyes closed and arms
hugging her body, Rachelle's heart sank. How had her life come
to this? If she couldn't set more than one personal goal for herself,
she didn't really have a life. Now was the time to decide what, if
anything, she was going to do about it.

he return flight home the next day was grueling.