Chapter Eighteen
Hayden stood outside the nursing home with a feeling of déjà vu.
In all the years she’d been coming here, nothing had really changed. From the shrubs planted along the brick exterior, to the flowers they planted each spring and summer, to the benches and picnic tables in the yard.
Her mother’s condition had meant she’d been there for years. Jeri MacNulty had wasted away, bit by bit, year by year. Dying by increments. She used to come out to the small courtyard by the entrance when she’d been in an independent-living section. But as her dementia worsened, she’d been moved to the long-term-care unit and the only time she left the building was if Hayden took her out.
Knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable, Hayden walked into the lobby area. When she’d first begun coming to the home, she’d been impressed with the cheerfulness of both the decor and the staff.
Year after long year, she’d walked through the perky lobby, to the elevator, up three floors to the nursing unit. Here, the appearance was more hospital-like. Carpet gave way to tile, the reception desk into nursing stations. But the walls were a cheery rose color, and the staff was as nice and likeable as the rest of the home’s employees.
And her mother still had the same bitterness, the same anger as she’d always had, but now it was marked by more confusion. The doctors diagnosed her with multi-infarct dementia brought on by blood clots on the brain. It was a disease that predominantly struck people older than her mother, but being outside the norm didn’t soften the blow. Piece by piece her mother lost memories and time became blurred. Aphasia had wreaked havoc on her speech.
Yet, through all of it, her mother’s rage remained intact, and she targeted it on Hayden with as much accuracy as ever.
The elevator doors opened, and her mother sat in a wheelchair, screaming at the staff. Not screaming words or obscenities as she once would have, but a wordless, ire-filled primal scream.
“Mom?” Sometimes if she could distract her, her mother forgot the anger. “Mom, I came to see you.”
“You.” Hayden had heard that tirade so many times, she knew the script.
“Would you like to go for a walk outside? Get out of here for a while?”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, take me in.”
Hayden knew that by in, her mother meant out. She mixed up her words, when she could find them at all. “Fine, Mom. Just let me tell the nurses and we’ll go outside for a while.”
Kim was standing at the desk and had obviously heard the exchange, but Hayden walked over to her anyway. “How long?”
“Two hours. We have a call into Dr. Shelton, but—”
“But she’s taking forever to get back to you, and you could use a break.”
“I’d take her outside myself, or get one of the aides to, but it’s been one thing after another today and we’re short staffed, so …”
“I do understand. It’s no problem. I’ll take her for a walk. Maybe a change of scenery will help.”
“Thanks, Hayden. This is as hard on her as on the rest of us. I think she’s aware enough that she knows what she’s doing, she just doesn’t have any way to control herself anymore.”
“Even if she could, my mother wasn’t someone who ever tried to control herself. I don’t know how you deal with it every day.”
“Like anything else, there are good days and bad.”
Her mother screamed again, a piercing, blood-curdling sound.
“And there’s an example of a bad one.” She quickly got her mother organized and wheeled the chair into the elevator and pressed the lobby button.
“Hate it there,” her mother mumbled. “Hate it. I want to go for ice cream.”
Hayden questioned, “Ice cream, or did you mean, home?”
“Home. I want to go home.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. You can’t do that.”
“I want to go home.” The small brick house at the bottom of Briar Hill Road had sold the year after her mother had moved into the assisted-living facility. The Wilkosz family had brought the run-down place back to its former glory. Repaired, landscaped … the house screamed happiness, something it had never known when the MacNultys had lived there.
Hayden hoped that whatever karma was left from her family had been wiped out by the Wilkoszes. Hayden would occasionally catch little Eric or Amy playing on the lawn. Of course, that was years ago, and the Wilkosz children were too old to spend much time playing, but it still seemed a happy home.
“Let’s go outside and sit under the trees. We’ll talk there.”
“Home, home, home, home …” her mother screamed as Hayden wheeled her through the lobby. Thankfully, Lori, the receptionist, and only two other people were there to witness the outburst.
Hayden didn’t try to reason with her mother, didn’t try to quiet her—she knew better. She just hurried onto the path that led to the grove of trees at the back of the building. She pushed the wheelchair up next to the picnic table and sat down, facing her mother.
“Now, take it slowly and tell me what’s wrong.”
“You did this.” Her mother pointed a finger that wobbled as it hung midair. “You.”
“Mom, you have a disease, do you remember?” She didn’t bother naming it, but just explained, “Blood clots in your brain. It’s why it’s sometimes hard to find your words. Take your time and tell me.”
“You put me here.”
“Yes, I did. You couldn’t stay at home. You weren’t thinking clearly and were a danger to yourself and others.”
“You hate me. You took away all my chances.”
Hayden knew the story of how, even before her birth, she was to blame for all her mother’s woes. “I know. You were going to make it big, be a dancer, then you got pregnant with me and had to get married to Dad. Dad with his lofty dreams, but no follow through. Dad and his drinking. I know, Mom. I ruined your life.”
She nodded. “You’re getting even.”
“That’s not true.”
For an hour she sat listening to her mother spew her hate and frustration. Hayden hoped that by letting her mother vent, she’d be calmer for the staff tonight.
Time slipped by. She glanced at her watch. “We have to go in, Mom.”
“Throw away the bee.”
“No, Mom, I won’t throw away the key.” Though it was tempting. And just thinking it made her feel horrible.
Hayden couldn’t leave her mother alone and uncared for. Too many residents had families who put them in the home and then forgot about them. People who only were visited on the holidays … if then.
No one, not even her mother, deserved that.
As she wheeled her mother back into her room, then checked in with Kim at the nurses’ station, she kept thinking about her mother’s life, how she held on to her pain, took pleasure in it even.
As Hayden waited for the elevator, she glanced in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize her own reflection. She looked washed out, pale … and angry.
She realized for the first time that she looked like her mother. A younger version, but there it was. She’d never noticed the similarities in their looks until now. Maybe it wasn’t just the physical likeness, maybe it was something else. The bitterness.
She went outside, but rather than getting into the car, she went back to the picnic table. Thoughts tumbling over each other.
After years of doing everything she could to be as different from her mother as possible, to be as much like Kathleen as possible, maybe genetics won out in the end. She was more like her mom than she wanted to admit. Her mother had spent her life mourning the things she felt fate, or rather Hayden, had robbed her of.
Hayden thought back over the last six months. About her rocky relationship with Brian. She’d pulled away from him. He’d pulled away from her, but that was no excuse. They’d both just stopped trying, lost in their own muddled feelings. Even now, she’d been toying with the idea of a separation.
She’d loved Brian for as long as she could remember, and yet she was willing to let that go because it was too hard, would take too much to repair what they had.
What did that say about her? About her love for her family?
She tried to be honest with herself … why was she willing to walk away rather than fight?
Because if she fought and lost, it would be worse. If she let herself fall back in love with him, tried to hold on to Brian and their relationship, and he still slipped through her fingers, she might not ever recover. It was easier to just let go now, while she was used to the distance between them.
Kathleen’s words came back to her … live life out loud.
Her mother had never done that. She’d lost what she felt was her one chance and slunk into the shadows, preferring to stay there than risk trying again.
Hayden was slinking, rather than risk trying again.
When did that happen?
When had she become the kind of person who would prefer living quietly on the sidelines rather than living life out loud?
The last six months—before that even, if she was being honest—she’d pulled back when she should have stepped up. She hadn’t said anything when there was so much that needed to be said.
Maybe it was time for taking a step forward, saying something, at least one thing that needed to be said.
I’m sorry.
It wasn’t much. Just two words, but maybe it was a start. It was more than she’d ever had from her parents. It didn’t make up for closing herself off from Brian and Livie, but maybe it was a start at opening herself back up to them.
Suddenly the trip to Southampton looked brighter.
Brian walked into the kitchen and was hit by a wave of smells. Spicy, sweet. There was a humidity in the air that said water had been boiled. The overall feel was warm and inviting. He thought all this, but in the most casual sort of way, noted there was something different. And then it really hit him—someone was cooking.
It had been months since someone had cooked. The three of them had collectively lived off salads and take-out. But tonight, someone had cooked.
He took another step into the kitchen and saw Hayden at the stove. She turned and smiled. It was a tentative expression that said she expected to be rebuffed. That expectation reminded him of what a failure he was. When Hayden had needed him most, he hadn’t been there for her. He’d let her down.
She’d shouldered the burden of caring for not only his mother, but for him, for Livie, for her own ungrateful mother. And he hadn’t been able to do enough to help her.
Now she smiled at him, and waited for him to walk away. He offered her a tentative smile and was rewarded by a look of relief passing over her face, followed by a more natural smile.
She stirred whatever was in the big pot. “I thought I’d cook.”
“I see that.”
She glanced back at him. “Livie just got in and went to clean up.”
“Let me wash my hands and I’ll help you set the table.”
He hurried to the sink and watched Hayden bustle around the kitchen. Something was up. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but it was there.
He went to the cupboard and pulled out four plates, then stopped. Hoping Hayden didn’t see, he put one back, then turned. As he did, Hayden gave him a wry smile. She understood. “I do it all the time,” she admitted, stirring.
He’d just finished putting the silverware on the table when Livie walked in.
“I see I timed that right,” she teased, gesturing to the table.
“Not right enough,” Hayden assured her. “You can slice the bread while your father pours the wine,” she looked at Brian and added, “If you don’t mind?”
“No.”
After months of not meeting his eyes, of avoiding talking to him, Hayden’s openness was encouraging.
She brought a huge pan of lasagna to the table and extra tomato sauce, then went back and brought three salad bowls.
“Sit, everyone.”
Livie caught his eye as they did and raised a brow, silently asking him what was up. He shrugged. He had no clue.
“Before we eat, there’s something I have to say, and I might as well just get it over with. I went to the nursing home today and looked in a mirror. It sounds stupid, but what I saw in my reflection was my mom, both in my features and my actions. She’s bitter, blaming life, blaming me, for everything that’s gone wrong. She shut everyone out years ago, and never opened up to let anyone else in.”
“Mom, you’re not bitter, you’re just—” Livie groped for a word “—sad.”
“Maybe. Maybe bitterness comes from holding on to a sadness too long. Letting it eat away at you. I don’t know. But what I do know is, like my mom, I shut out everyone. I held on to my pain, rather than share it. The more I held on to it, the higher I had to build the walls to keep it in. Finally, the wall was so high, I couldn’t scale it to get to the two of you. I left you both during a time you needed me most. I’m sorry.”
“Hayden—” Brian stared.
She shook her head. “I don’t need either of you to say anything. I just wanted to apologize and tell you that I’ll try to do better. To be here … really be here.”
Livie reached across the table and took her mother’s hand. Hayden smiled at their daughter, genuinely smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that expression on her face.
He wanted to take her other hand, but was afraid she’d pull back, and if she still pulled away from him after making her apology, he’d know for sure it was over between them. He wasn’t ready to know that yet.
So, rather than take the chance and risk yet another rejection, he didn’t reach for her. But he did say, “I won’t say it now. I’ll wait a while longer, but I get to have my turn sometime soon.”
She looked worried, but nodded. “Soon. Right now, there’s a real dinner on the table for the first time in I don’t know how long. Let’s dig in.”
She’d taken a step back to him. He was going to be satisfied with that for now, so he obliged. He dished up his plate and joined in the purposefully light conversation.
He’d bide his time.
Hayden liked having the last word, and he’d let her have it, for now. He could wait.
He’d done it in the past.
November 1981
“Go on, say it, college boy.” Hayden had him cornered, but he wasn’t about to admit defeat.
He’d left for college in Tennessee in August, and here it was, almost Thanksgiving. His first visit home. He’d expected a teary reunion with his mom and Hayden. Instead …
He looked up at the bedroom window. She was still there, water balloon in hand, poised, daring him to try to get in the house without saying the words.
“Hayden, this is childish.”
“Hey, I’m a freshman in high school, not in college, so I can afford to be as childish as I want.” She shook her hand, making the balloon wiggle within it. “Come on, college boy, say it.”
“I’ll get you back if you do,” he warned.
“Oh, now who’s being childish, Mr. Delta Delta Dork?”
The red balloon in her hand was huge, straining from the pressure of the water it contained. She shook it a bit. “Say it.”
“Fine. I’ll humor your childish ways.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Hayden is queen of the mountain, empress of all she surveys.”
“Glad you remember, college boy.” She whipped the balloon out the window, and it hit his car rather than him. “You may enter.”
“I’ll remember that balloon, Hayden. One day, when you’ve all but forgotten, I’ll get even.”
“The oh, so mature, college boy speaks,” she hollered before she slammed her window shut, making sure she had the last word.
Brian sat at the table not sure why he was remembering water-balloon fights. Hayden had started it with that Thanksgiving one when he was a college freshman. He’d waited until he was a senior in college to get even. He’d hit her with one and the resulting battle had ended in their first kiss. But he’d had his say.
Of course, he hadn’t said anything very wise. He’d apologized for kissing her when what he should have done was simply kissed her again.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
When the time came, he’d get the last word in … and hopefully the first kiss of a new beginning.
It was odd that a pan of lasagna and an apology made him this hopeful, but then when had anything between him and Hayden been normal?
Feeling better than he had in months, Brian ate his dinner and smiled at his wife, who had the good sense to look a bit nervous.