Chapter 11: Corabelle
Gavin is a disaster on the drive back. He won’t talk to anyone. Won’t even tell me what went down in his father’s room.
The next morning, when the rest of us get ready to head to the hospital to sit with Gavin’s mom, Gavin announces that he and June are spending the day together in Deming.
Mom drops onto an armchair in disbelief. “You’re not coming?”
“Nope,” Gavin says, brushing donut sugar off his hands. He and June went out early to pick them up. “June is going to show me what’s changed in Deming.”
“I still need to go,” Mom says. “I want to be with Alaina.”
“More power to you,” Gavin says. “We’ll be hiking.” He looks at June’s tennis shoes. “You got something sturdier than that to wear?”
“At home,” she says.
“We’ll run by there.”
He pauses next to me. “You with us or with them?” he asks.
I have no idea what to do. Gavin is acting like the person in the hospital has nothing to do with him.
“Don’t you think your mom would like to see you?” I ask.
He leans down to brush a kiss on my lips. “Her brother will be there. And your mom. I’ll take June tomorrow. I hear they don’t wake him up for another six hours after the six-hour surgery.” He glances at his watch. “That’s after visiting hours. Tomorrow is better.”
Mom reaches out to touch Gavin’s arm. “But what if…”
She won’t say it.
“He keels over?” Gavin asks. “Then it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not. He won’t know the difference.” He looks at June. “Race you to the back door of our house?”
She lines up as if there’s a starting block.
Gavin shouts, “Go!” and they are off, through the living room, past the kitchen, and out the back door. I can see them in the backyard, heading for the gate to the alley.
“Well, I’ll be,” Mom says. “He seems to be in denial. Did he say what happened last night?”
“Not a word,” I say. “But his father was being a real jerk. He probably didn’t get any better after I left the room.”
“What do you think?” Dad asks. “Should we go without them? Or stay here?”
“I told Alaina I’d be there,” Mom says. “I suppose you two could stay.”
“I’m going,” I say. “His mom might need us if…” I don’t say it out loud either.
“I’m happy to chauffeur,” Dad says. “Corabelle is here, and I’m not going to miss out on that.”
“Maybe you two could pick up some nice gifts for the family in Las Cruces,” Mom says. “It will be a long day in the hospital.”
“As long as Corabelle can pick things out, I’m game,” Dad says.
Mom sorts through a basket by her feet to pack some knitting supplies in a travel bag. She pulls out a big tuft of fuzzy blue yarn.
My mind stutters for a moment, remembering when she made baby clothes for Finn. The yarn was similar. Finn came early, and she hadn’t finished anything but a little hat, which he wore. I wonder what she did with the incomplete booties.
I almost press my hand to my belly, but catch myself. This is no time to announce I’m pregnant. Gavin and I agreed to wait on the sonogram, and I don’t want to take away from the seriousness of what is happening in Gavin’s family.
We wait around a little while for Gavin and June, but they’re obviously already engaged in something fun, so Mom, Dad, and I load up the car.
“It is a little strange to be going up there without either of their kids,” Mom says as Dad enters the highway.
“Let them have some fun,” Dad says. “Gavin’s right, nothing will happen until late afternoon, and it will be evening before anyone can see him.”
I sit back in my seat, watching all the same sights go by as the night before. It feels strange to be without Gavin, but I’m glad he’ll get some happy time with his sister. Mom seems eager to mend her rift with Gavin’s mother.
“Did you ever tell Mr. and Mrs. Mays about the wedding?” I ask Mom.
“I took some pictures over,” Mom sighs. “I sure wish Alaina would have brought June. She just wouldn’t do it without Robert.”
“Gavin didn’t want his father there,” I say. Neither did I. The two of them together could wreck any occasion.
Mom turns to me. “How bad was it, Corabelle? I can’t believe neither one of you came to tell us Robert was hitting Gavin.”
“I’m not sure if Gavin left anything out with me. But he often had welts on his back and legs. Sometimes on his face.”
“His face!” Mom exclaims. “We would have seen that!”
“He’d stay pretty scarce when that happened,” I tell her.
“Did no one notice at school?” she asks.
“I think the teacher asked him about it once, but he didn’t tell her,” I say.
My father smacks the steering wheel. “We would have taken him in,” he says. “Did he hurt June? We will intervene.”
“No, he leaves girls alone. It was just about Gavin. I guess he got more frustrated with him.” I remember the wrench in the air. So awful.
“Did you ever see it?” Mom asks. Her eyes are wide with worry, probably picturing the things I might have witnessed.
“No, he came close, but he’d behave himself around me. That’s why I went over there so often.”
Mom’s hand flutters to her cheek. “I thought you were helping with the flowers.”
“I was. But that was why. I’m not particularly good at gardening.”
“My word,” she breathes.
“Maybe it IS better if he keels over,” Dad says.
“Arthur!” Mom exclaims.
“You think we want a man like that around our grandchildren?” Dad’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “I don’t blame Gavin for leaving him out of the wedding.”
The word grandchildren gets me. I’ve had myself in check since we arrived, but now tears spring, burning the corners of my eyes. I have to pull it together or Mom will surely guess.
Of course she looks back at me at the worst time. “Corabelle, honey, you okay?” She reaches in her bag and passes me a Kleenex. “You worried about Robert?”
Ha, no. “Just rough times,” I say.
“How is grad school going?” Dad asks. “Easier without being a TA?”
I hadn’t told them about the adjunct position I turned down, only about finishing my master’s without serving as a teaching assistant. Since I’m finishing midyear, I made that my excuse.
“Definitely,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I should get my thesis in on time easily.”
“Then straight into the doctoral program?” Mom asks. “Are you already admitted?”
“No, applications are due by the end of summer.” I won’t send one in, of course. I’ll have to take at least a year off with the baby. It’s a mess, actually. If something bad happens, I won’t have a baby or school. I guess I’ll go back to Cool Beans for another gap year.
But I can’t think that way.
The baby is due in February. I might be able to start my doctorate work the next fall. I don’t know. It’s overwhelming, all of it. I dab my eyes again.
Mom and Dad exchange a glance, and I know they have figured out something is up. But it’s not time to talk about it.
We’re quiet the remainder of the drive. When we get to the hospital, we find they have cleared Gavin’s father’s room, as they expect him to spend the night in ICU.
“The family will be in the surgical waiting room,” the nurse tells us.
We head back to the elevator.
“I haven’t seen Ben in ages,” Mom says. “I’m glad Alaina’s brother can be there, especially if her mother-in-law is coming.”
I grimace. I remember Grandma K very well. A sour-faced woman lacking any patience but with more than her share of opinions. Sometimes Gavin and I would cast her as the evil witch in our little plays.
“I wasn’t aware I would be sharing a room with Katerina Mays,” Dad says. He elbows me. “Let’s make a run for it.”
“You weren’t listening last night,” Mom admonishes. “Alaina told us the two of them were coming in.”
“I zoned out,” Dad says.
“You were playing Plants versus Zombies,” Mom says.
“I couldn’t let them win!” Dad says. “It’s war!”
“Oh, Arthur,” Mom says.
I feel better, listening to the amicable teasing that defined my childhood. Instead of the struggling grad student with debt and problems, I’m just somebody’s daughter.
The surgical floor is much busier than the regular wards. It’s midmorning, and it seems everyone is being wheeled in or out of procedures. Clumps of people stand in the halls, some talking to nurses. We follow the signs to the cardiac ward and spot Gavin’s mom in the chairs of a large waiting area. Grandma K is next to her.
“There she is,” Dad says through clenched teeth.
Gavin’s grandmother looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her, at Finn’s funeral. Stout, dressed in a vivid green muumuu, her silvery hair spun into a wispy puff, her pale scalp showing through.
She holds a red purse in her lap, clamped with both hands. She stares straight ahead. I’m not sure if she’s worried about her son, or this is just her usual surly self.
Gavin’s mother stands when she sees us. “Maybelle, Arthur, so good of you to return.” She kisses Mom’s cheek. “And Corabelle.” She looks behind us. “Where is Gavin? And June?”
“He didn’t message you?” Mom asks, casting a worried glance my way. “He and June are back in Deming. He didn’t see a reason to put June through a long day of waiting up here. They’ll come when there is news.”
“Oh,” she says. “I guess that is good for June.” She glances back at Grandma K. “Ben hasn’t made it yet. He’s driving down from Phoenix.”
She sits down, and Mom takes a seat beside her. No one speaks to Grandma K. Dad and I glance at each other. There’s only one seat by Mom. The other is on the other side, next to Grandma K.
Dad leans in. “Arm wrestle you for it.”
I laugh. “We can go in the row behind.”
“You were always the smart one,” he says.
We settle in behind the two mothers. Grandma K still hasn’t glanced our way. I lean close. “Hello, Grandma K,” I say.
She grunts, her eyes still forward.
Gavin’s mom glances back at me and gives the tiniest shrug.
“I’m so glad I could be here,” Mom says. “I assume Robert has already gone back?”
“He’s in prep,” Mrs. Mays says. “Surgery is supposed to begin at nine.”
That’s in ten minutes. I imagine surly Mr. Mays back there in his hospital gown, all mean eyes and patchy whiskers, insulting everybody right to the end. They’ll probably enjoy putting the mask on him and watching him go under.
Stores won’t open until ten. I settle in by Dad and plan to just wait. This is what family does.
Even when the one you’re sitting here for is an obstinate, awful, horrible man.
Maybe this brush with mortality will be the thing that changes him.