Day 23

Man, even the hand I had carpel tunnel surgery in is aching. I don't think I'm cut out to be a writer...

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Time slowed down for me, I slept in late, rarely got fully dressed and mostly lolled from bed to sofa to chaise lounge. Occasionally I stirred myself to walk down to the beach with a folding lounge chair and watch Momma enjoy the surf. On the hottest days I joined her in the water, not swimming or moving around vigorously, more sitting in the cool water and allowing the tide to surge around my ever increasing girth.

Somehow I even managed to get my mother out of that travesty of a swimsuit she had been donning for years now, a zippered neck to crotch double layer garment that was like an elbow to ankle leotard sewn into a loose nearly floor length house dress. I think she realized how cumbersome what she’d been wearing was and ended up swimming in a pair of men’s surfer shorts and t shirt, realizing that it didn’t have to be floor length to be modest. Partially I think she made the change because when she and I were on the beach the occasional person would ask her if she was Mormon or Moslem, not understanding the purpose of the long baggy swimming garment. She did dress more up to date now so it was truly time to ditch that special swim wear of hers. Not to mention it had initially been quite costly but after twenty years it was a stretched out, much worn and bleached by salt water and chlorine wreck.

Momma spoiled me, keeping the house spotless and cooking huge meals for just her, I and Jude. Many evenings we played board games or watched movies. Momma couldn’t get enough of the many movies for rental.

During that long summer I relaxed and enjoyed the only time in my entire life I wasn’t working madly, either taking care of my brothers and sisters, or going to school or on my career. I’d never had leisure time like this before and I made the most of it, reading just for sheer enjoyment, not because I had to write a paper or because I had research due. Momma taught me how to knit that summer and I made a blanket for each of the babies.

As much as I was enjoying being a pampered only child in many ways part of me was afraid that any day now either Cynthia Rose would pop in unannounced or she would called up and angrily demand a meeting with Momma. But she didn’t, we talked that summer quite a lot but she was careful to time her visits to my home when she knew Momma would be gone for several hours.

I worried for Cynthia Rose. She was still madly in love with the man she’d given up stripping for but she worried me still. There were shadows under eyes, dark circles that told me that as modestly as she dressed now and no matter how over the moon she seemed with this new man something wasn’t quite right.

She told me she’d been learning how to do the books at his office but she didn’t seem very happy about being gainfully employed. Cynthia Rose complained that working in a straight job didn’t pay as well as taking off her clothes for a living had but her man, Brad, was everything she ever wanted. She’d do whatever he wanted her to do.

I had to think that at least she’d stopped with the drinking, hanging around the casino, plastic surgery and seemed almost like her old self again. If this Brad got my sister to forgo these things perhaps he wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.

One day in late June I heard Momma come back from shopping just as I was finishing up my phone call to Cynthia Rose. I heard Momma moving around downstairs, carrying bags into the kitchen, cabinet doors opening and closing, the refrigerator being filled with items so I tried to complete the conversation. But I wasn’t quite quick enough, Momma stuck her head into my room, listened for a moment or so until I hung up. She stood there, gazing at me with a sad look on her face for awhile before asking, “Was that Cynthia Rose?”

All the troubles I’d gotten into in the past grew out of the lies I’d told, even with the best of intentions so I told her the truth, “Yes, that was Cynthia. She and I usually try to talk a couple of times a week and sometimes she visits when you’re not here.”

Momma sat down suddenly on the edge of my bed and took my hand. I noticed for the first time that she was almost crying. She said softly, “I’d like to see her again, if you think that’s alright. I know I said some harsh things to her the last time we met but I’d like to see my baby again, her and Jake. Could you arrange for her and Jake, if he’s around, to come here sometime?”

I smiled at my mother, feeling her worry and fear as I reached up to smooth back her long hair from her face. She’d taken to not putting her hair up in a ponytail or bun every morning. Now she combed the shimmering brown waves back and wore it down. The update in clothing and hair took ages off her appearance. I was glad for her.

“Of course I will,” I said, “in fact, I think it might be a good idea. I know Jake and Cynthia Rose have missed you mightily. I’ll arrange it.”

A few weeks later they came, both of them. I’d had Jude help me don clothing that wasn’t a nightgown or a beach throw that day and Momma had cooked some of our childhood favorites for all of us to eat.

When they arrived I think Momma was the most surprised by the changes in my brother Jake. In the ensuing years of working on a fishing boat before going back to school to study art Jake had grown even taller and more muscular. The clean cut young man who had left her house was now a handsome man in great shape, someone that could easily be mistaken for a male model. His flashing white smile and vivid blue eyes set in a deeply tanned face just reinforced this change. Momma took one look at him and wrapped her arms around him, crying happy tears and calling him her baby.

I had already prepared Momma for the news that Jake was still gay and he had been living happily with an older man for a long time now. But I’d been quite surprised with my mother’s response. I’d expected her to start talking about abominations and sin but she’d blinked and said mildly, “Emily, I’ve learned not to judge others for their choices I don’t agree with. It is God’s job to convict and convince, not mine. That’s what the years I went without contact from my eldest three children taught me. I swore to God if He was gracious enough to allow me to see all of you again I would learn not to be as judgmental.”

Cynthia Rose showed up a few minutes later. I was surprised to see that she didn’t bring Brad with her and I asked her where Mr. Wonderful was. We’d been trying to meet him for a few months now but Cynthia always had a logical excuse as to why he couldn’t make it. Today he was out at a meeting of local business men, she said he had told her to tell the rest of us how sorry he was he had not been able to meet our family yet. Some day soon.

And I had to give Cynthia Rose credit. If she had been dressing less like a stripper and more like a young lady lately, today she’d outdone herself. She was wearing a beautiful floral print dress with just a hint of makeup. Matching low heeled pumps, purse and pearls completed the look.

“Cynthia Rose!” my mother had said excitedly, “look at you! You’re so elegant, so pretty.” before she leapt forward to hug my sister and cry over her too.

The day was filled with laughter and tears as everyone made the supreme effort to let old sins and petty hurts stay long buried. Momma got the opportunity to catch up with each of them and made Cynthia Rose promise to go shopping with her one day soon. I could see on the faces of all three just how much this reconciliation meant deep inside. I was glad I could be part of it, help it come about.

The only unpleasant bit of the day came when Jude took my mother and Cynthia up to look at the nursery Momma and he had been working on and left me alone with Jake.

Jake cornered me in the family room and immediately wanted to know what on earth our sister had done to her body and face. He couldn’t get over the change in her. I told him he should consider himself lucky because it seemed now that Cynthia had managed to pull it all together. Between the time he left the area and now Cynthia had extensive plastic surgery to resemble some sort of ultimate stripper but now she had stopped all that nonsense and seemed more stable.

“Have you even met this Brad she keeps talking about?” he asked, real concern distorting his handsome features.

“No,” I said, “I keep asking to meet him, offering to have them over for dinner but I keep getting excuses. Should I be worried?”

Jake poured himself another glass of wine, walked over to the french doors leading to the sands and stood for a minute, “Well, let’s just say I knew some unsavory characters in Biloxi that claimed to be in the import business but were actually in another sort of business, just as illegal.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

He frowned, “Nothing, forget I ever said anything. I don’t.. think it is likely.. but, just forget it.”