The Moments Between Page 8

  “Are you going to change?” I continued.

  “What?! You don’t like my outfit?” He laughed.

  I stood with pursed lips and folded arms. We were already running late.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll go change!” he scoffed.

  He stopped before he walked away and looked at me, his eyes amused. “But only if you give me a kiss, and I mean a real kiss.”

  The boys immediately began to moan and scream in protest about the kissing and disappeared down the hallway.

  “Don’t mess up your outfits!” I called after them.

  When I looked back, Ben was still waiting for my response.

  I laughed. “You’re ridiculous!”

  “Ridiculously in love!” he proclaimed as he swooped me up and laid his lips on mine.

  Mom lived on Evergreen Street in Gastonia, which was only a forty-minute drive from us. She had moved there after Grayson was born so she could be closer to help me with the baby.

  One of her many attempts to try to repair our relationship.

  She lived in a historic cobblestone cottage she had been renting for years. It was located just a few miles off of the interstate, making it easy to get to. It was a small two-bedroom house with all original windows and floors and a large fenced in backyard with beautiful mature trees. The house was also within walking distance of the local library. Making it even more appealing for her.

  When we arrived, everyone else was already there. Cars filled her small driveway. When we got out, the boys ran up the walk and straight inside without looking back.

  Ben took my hand and we went up the walkway together.

  I took a big, deep breath just before we stepped inside.

  Jonathan and Lewis were sitting in front of the television watching basketball when we came in. The playoffs were on. Ben walked over and shook both of their hands as I went into the kitchen, where Mandi was talking to the boys.

  Mom was pulling the ham out of the oven when I walked in. I was struck by how beautiful she looked. Radiant.

  Her short blonde hair was now tinseled with streaks of white and her silver hoop earrings sparkled as she turned, smiling when she saw me.

  She’s smiling? That’s a new one.

  “Claire, could you grab the hot plates and set them down on the counter for me?” her voice light and melodic.

  I grabbed them just in time for her to set down the hot roasting pan.

  The kitchen was strangely comforting, filled with the aroma of cinnamon and warmth.

  Mandi came up and lightly hugged me. She smelled of Chanel perfume and hairspray.

  Her hug was brief, and afterwards she brushed herself off.

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. She saw me and glared back.

  “What’s your problem?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I responded.

  She nodded her head. “Yeah, whatever!”

  She turned and walked into the living room.

  I watched her walk away in her mini skirt and stiletto heels, and I grimaced.

  “Why does she always have to be like that? It’s pathetic.” I looked over at Mom who was serving out steamed broccoli onto a platter.

  “Like what?” Mom answered without looking up.

  “I don’t know. Dressing like a prostitute for starters…”

  “Claire! That’s enough!” Mom retorted. Her face red with anger.

  I dropped it, but I was still annoyed. Lately, my patience for Mandi was razor thin.

  Years of not standing up to her had taken its toll. For some unknown reason, I could never stand up to her. Every time I had ever tried, I ended up getting tongue tied and flustered.

  I remembered just after Oliver was born, Mandi had stopped by to see the baby. I was excited to see her, but as usual, that excitement was short lived.

  She stepped inside the front door, looking as if she had stepped off the runway. Wearing a deep v white blouse with skin-tight leopard pants and black thigh high boots. Her hair perfectly wind-blown. Lips so red, they looked like blood. I stood in front of her in a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants, hair unbrushed for days and felt suddenly self-conscious. I ran my fingers through my hair, nervously.

  “Where’s my new nephew!?” she exclaimed as the foyer filled with the scent of her perfume. I led her into the living room, where she bent over the cradle and cooed. She stood looking at him for several moments, her back to me.

  “Do you want to hold him?” I offered.

  She whipped around. “No, no! That’s quite okay!”

  She stepped back from the cradle shaking her head.

  Mandi and Lewis didn’t have any children. She proclaimed she would never have kids. Too much work, she would say.

  “So, I see you haven’t lost any of the baby weight…” Her eyes on my post-baby widened hips. I tugged on my shirt, pulling it down over my waist trying to cover any bulge that was spilling over.

  “God, I would never want to ruin my body in that way.” Her face was crinkled up with distaste. “I just don’t know how you do it, Claire.” Her eyes now on my unbrushed hair.

  All that was going through my head was: Bitch, Bitch, Bitch.

  I had just had a baby for god sake. What did she expect?

  But I didn’t say a word. Everything I wanted to say sitting on the tip of my tongue, right until she walked out the door.

  I knew deep down her put downs weren’t intentional, but most of what came out of her mouth was taken that way. It was just a natural side effect of being around her.

  I walked over and started picking at and eating pieces of the ham, the drippings burning my fingers, while Mom looked on disapprovingly.

  “Take this dish outside for me,” Mom said as she handed me a bowl of stewed apples, trying to deter me from nibbling before the meal. I walked out the back door to where the table was set up. A paper tablecloth flapped in the wind. She had set a table up out here because her house was too small to have one big enough to accommodate us all. Luckily the weather was perfect for outdoor eating. We had just had a small cold snap, with days in the fifties. Luckily today was warm. I walked around the table and looked at tiny floral place holders, each one holding a card with our individual names. I placed the apples near a large flower arrangement of daffodils and white lilies that sat in the center of the table. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. She hadn’t done anything like this since I was very young. She had even planned an Easter Egg hunt for the boys. The colorful eggs were already strewn all over the yard. Purple, orange, lime, and pink peeked out from the blades of green grass.

  Jonathan came out with the ham on a large platter. He sat it down next to the apples, and I looked just past him and saw streamers hanging from the tree limbs.

  “What’s up with Mom?” he asked, as if he could read my mind.

  “How am I supposed to know?” I retorted, instantly regretting my tone.

  “Well damn. You live by her and I don’t. I would think you’d know.” His voice was edgy. I wondered if this was going to turn into an argument. Jonathan and I had never argued before. But we didn’t talk either. Our conversations normally were limited to small pleasantries.

  He actually had a closer relationship to Ben than he did me. When we got together for the holidays, they would immediately get together and start laughing and joking about everything. Feeding off each other to the point where sometimes it would get out of hand. Especially if they started poking fun at Mandi.

  I wanted to talk to him, really talk, but I didn’t know how. To find a way to bridge the distance that had formed over the years.

  I adored Jonathan when I was little. When he still lived at home, he was my hero. Especially right after Dad left.

  Before he left for school.

  He had been an anchor in an unstable world.

  One particular night st
ood out from the rest. It was the week after Dad left. Mom had locked herself in her bedroom again and wouldn’t come out. Jonathan came home from work with McDonald’s for Mandi and I for dinner. He knew we would be hungry. Later after eating, Mandi and I were watching a video when Jonathan called out to us from the backyard.

  Mandi and I stood out on the porch, looking out at him.

  “I thought you were going to your friend’s house to watch the meteor shower?” Mandi spouted.

  “I was. But then I thought who better to watch the meteor shower with than my best two girls?” He smiled. His body still gangly with youth.

  Mandi huffed and walked away, going back to the video. The truth being, she had no interest in what Jonathan was talking about.

  I looked up at him with expectant eyes.

  “What’s a meteor shower?” I asked.

  “Let me show you,” he said as he took my hand and led me off the porch to where he had a laid a blanket out on the grass.

  We laid down on our backs and looked up at the darkened sky.

  “It’s a perfect night for this!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. I nodded, still not quite understanding.

  I put my hands behind my head like Jonathan did as the wind moved through the trees and the crickets hummed their nightly tune.

  The sky was a deep ebony etched in sparkling stars, blanketing the sky as far as the eye could see. I was entranced by the night sky. Enveloped. Consumed. As if I were becoming one with its vastness and majesty.

  Time seemed to stop as we lay motionless.

  Then, the first meteor blazed across the sky with trail of dazzling light behind it. And I gasped.

  “Woah! Did you see that?” Jonathan asked, his face as bright as the meteor itself.

  I nodded in awe.

  “That was a meteor,” he said with pride.

  As we laid next to each other and watched for more meteors, Jonathan taught me about the constellations. He pointed out Orion’s Belt, The Big and Little Dippers, and Cassiopeia.

  This became a nightly ritual for us. Star gazing. It lasted right until he left for school, and we never stargazed again. In fact, we barely talked either. He became a distant relative, one you barely saw and one you barely knew.

  My brother had practically disappeared from my life. My young heart experiencing its first real taste of heartbreak.

  I looked at Jonathan, now a grown man, a physicist at UNC-Chapel Hill with his own life going on. I felt a surge of sadness as I watched him walk back into the house to get more food for the table. The streamers that Mom had hung rustled in the wind behind me.

  I wanted to say something to him. Start a real conversation. Maybe find a way to reconnect. I rehearsed in my mind what I would say, but when he came back out with the mashed potatoes, Mandi was on his heels, and any conversation I had hoped to have was over.

  After we ate, Mom let the boys hunt for the Easter Eggs. Oliver was lagging behind, wanting to open each egg as soon as he found it, giving Grayson the advantage. And he was quickly clearing the yard of eggs. Jonathan went out and helped Oliver pile his basket high. Oliver’s eyes filled with admiration, as his and Jonathan’s laughter rang out across the swaying grass.

  Jonathan left right after the egg hunt, before I got another chance to talk to him.

  After the boys finished devouring pieces of melted chocolate, I took them inside to wash their hands. When I stepped inside, I overheard Mom on the phone with someone. She spoke in a hushed tone, but I heard her say, “I miss you” to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  When she saw me, she immediately hung up the phone.

  “Mom, who were you talking to?” My eyes steady on her as she stood motionless in front of me.

  “Oh, that was just Betty, my neighbor. She was seeing if we needed anything for the meal, but I told her we had just finished up.”

  She moved to the counter and began cleaning up.

  “Why did you tell her that you missed her?” I pressed.

  Mom’s face instantly reddened. “I did not say that!”

  I ran it back over again in my mind and was certain that she did.

  We stood looking at each other for just a moment, and then she turned and walked out the back door, without another word.

  I walked the boys on to the bathroom, passing by family pictures hung on the wall. There was one of all five us. Taken before the divorce.

  Taken when we were still a real family.

  It seemed so long ago, it could have been another lifetime.

  As I stepped away, a strange longing overtook me, so I went back to look at them again. The afternoon light poured in through the front windows, giving the hall a soft glow.

  The boys washed their hands and darted past me, back outside.

  I stood motionless. My eyes fixed on the family photo again. Nostalgia flowed as I looked at my dad’s face.

  Young and handsome. Strong. Broad shoulders.

  Nowadays he seemed smaller to me. Weathered.

  A part of me missed him, but we rarely talked. I had never been close to my father. There was a wall between us that neither seemed to be able to penetrate. I just couldn’t forgive him for leaving Mom the way he did, for leaving us alone to deal with the after effect of her bitterness. But more so, for always favoring Mandi. He always had eyes for Mandi and Mandi only, and I would never be enough.

  Not to mention the last time I saw him, we had a big fight.

  It was Oliver’s first birthday party. Dad had come to the party and spent the entire time talking to Mandi. Giving her advice about her latest loser boyfriend. He didn’t even see Oliver eating his smash cake. I stormed over and told him he needed to leave. I ended up yelling at him, saying he wasn’t wanted.

  He left soon after, with Mandi chasing behind him. I felt bad for yelling at him, but it was infuriating to me that he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mandi long enough to see his grandson celebrating his first birthday.

  I knew I should try to make more of an effort to talk to him…to see him… but for some reason I couldn’t. I knew deep down inside, I would never compare to his precious Mandi, and my heart was locked up tight. All my life I loved him, but I would never let him love me. He didn’t deserve that privilege. I walked away, ignoring the empty space stirring inside of me.

  When I came back outside, the sun was getting lower in the sky and I didn’t see Ben anywhere. When I finally spotted him, I saw that Mandi had him cornered. As I approached, I could see her leaning in close. She was running her finger along his jawline, proclaiming her love for his weekend stubble, as he tried to politely edge away from her. His face twisted in frustration.

  I walked up behind them and cleared my throat. She whipped around and laughed, trying to deflect anything I might have been thinking about her actions.

  Before I could say another word, Oliver came running up. I crouched down to hug him and he ran right past me and into Mandi’s arms.

  “Aunt Mandi, will you play hide and seek with me. Pweease!”

  She looked at me and smiled a smile I knew was reflecting a deep satisfaction. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he ran right past me and into her arms.

  “Sure, I will, baby boy! You know your auntie would do anything in the world for both of you boys!” With that, she took his hand and they walked off together.

  I stood there glaring at the back of her head.

  “Why do you let her get to you that way, Claire?” Ben spoke up.

  “I don’t know. She just…ugh…I don’t know!” I was still looking in her direction as I spoke.

  “I think you’re being silly. After all, Mandi is just being who Mandi is. The star of the show.”

  I whipped around and looked at him. “The star of the show?”

  He laughed and pulled me to him. “You’re the only star of my show an
d that’s all that matters.”

  I shrugged and pulled away so I could continue to glare at Mandi.

  “It’s actually a little pathetic, if you think about it, Claire. She is so desperate for somebody to validate her. She is always seeking approval from everyone around her. Can you imagine living that way, day after day? That’s why she comes after me. She could never even begin to compete with you, and she knows that deep down inside. You have got to stop letting her behavior get under your skin.” I looked at Ben as he spoke, and I could see he was serious. This wasn’t the first time he had lectured me about her. But he didn’t know Mandi the way I did.

  I turned and looked back at her, stumbling in her heels trying to chase the boys, and she looked absolutely ridiculous.

  For just a moment, I actually kind of felt a pang of sympathy for her.

  But only for just a moment.

  Chapter 8

  It was the beginning of April, and spring had arrived in all its splendor. Bringing with it weather so warm, I was sure that summertime would come early this year.

  Here in the Carolinas, spring was a time of celebration and renewal.

  As the Dogwood trees bloom their signature white blooms, the grass grows greener, the nests fill with baby birds, and the azalea bushes explode in color, the whole state comes to life.

  It was almost as if we were all going through some sort of baptism of hope and rebirth. Everyone seemed to smile a little more and breathe a little easier, despite the thick yellow pollen that dusted everything in its path.

  On a whim, I’d decided to sign up for an art class. It was a beginner’s course in acrylic painting. I wanted to expand my artistic expression beyond doodling.

  The class was being held at the Midtown Center for the Arts, right down the road from our house. They offered many different classes like art, dance, pottery, photography, and acting. During the day it was filled with moms like me and retired men and women who wanted to learn new artistic skills. In the afternoon and evenings, children’s voices filled the halls.

  The Center had been converted from an old brick building that used to be a large daycare facility. And now was filled with well-appointed studios and a small theater for the performing arts.