CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Karina and Elise walk together every week, regardless of the weather. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of early dawn keeps them from completing their three-mile loop. It’s an admirable policy in theory, but questionable on mornings such as this when the temperature, with the windchill, is below zero. They leave the paved roads of their neighborhood for the dirt path that encircles the reservoir, walking much faster than they normally do. The sharp, frigid air stings Karina’s cheeks and seems to penetrate her brain through her exposed eyeballs, every blink a temporary shield, a noticeable moment of relief. She wishes she’d remembered her sunglasses. The normally soft pine-needle-strewn dirt path has no give, feeling petrified beneath her feet, the earth frozen solid. Frequent bursts of wind slice her body and steal her breath. It’s too cold to be out here. It’s almost too cold to talk.
“She definitely needs more help,” says Grace, walking fast behind Elise’s heels as if pursuing her.
Grace arrived home yesterday for a long weekend. Before bed, Karina invited Grace to join her and Elise in the morning but didn’t pin any hopes and dreams on Grace’s actually coming. A night owl who hates the cold and hasn’t seen 6:00 a.m. since elementary school, Grace didn’t verbalize any interest, and Karina took her nonanswer to mean Thanks, but no thanks. So Karina was more than a little surprised, and happy, to see her daughter dressed and waiting at the front door when Karina was ready to leave.
It’s been a month since Grace was last home. It feels like a year. In December, Karina came and went without too much thought regarding Richard’s safety. He could always reach her on her cell. But his voice has significantly weakened since Christmas, and the voice-activation app on his phone can’t reliably comprehend his muted, slurred speech. His whole life has changed in one month. He needs Karina’s help regularly, throughout the day and night, and so her whole life has changed, too. She worries about leaving him alone, but she’s not giving up her weekly walk. He’ll be fine.
“What about his father and brothers?” asks Elise.
“They’re not going to take him in,” says Karina.
“How do you know if you don’t ask?”
“Believe me, I know.”
“They can at least give you some money for more help.”
“I can do it.”
Richard has thirty hours a week of home health aides, not covered by insurance. The rest is on Karina.
“But why do you want to?”
“Yeah, Mom, what are you trying to prove?”
Karina’s not sure. Maybe having Richard in the house gives her something useful to do, something that fills the many hours every day when she’s not teaching children to play piano. When Grace moved to Chicago, an enormous, lonely void moved into Karina’s home and heart. No amount of therapy, chocolate, wine, sleep, or Netflix could evict it. Richard in the den with ALS has elbowed out some of the void, which is admittedly strange, as his presence had never before been the cure for her loneliness. Are these really her only two options—live with Richard or live with the void?
She must be a saint. Or a martyr. Or screwed up.
“It’s not forever.”
“That’s what Jane Wilde thought.”
“Who?” asks Grace.
“Stephen Hawking’s first wife,” says Elise. “They were in their twenties when he was diagnosed, and she married him anyway, thinking he had only a couple of years left. He’s in his seventies now.”
“So Dad could live that long?”
“If for some reason the disease stops progressing,” says Karina, not believing this is possible in Richard’s case, given the decline he’s experienced in the past month. “Or if he gets a trach and goes on a ventilator.”
“You can’t do this indefinitely, Karina.”
“I know. If he goes on a ventilator, he needs to move to a facility.”
She’s not a nurse. And she’s not his wife.
“He’d probably qualify for some kind of assisted living now,” says Elise.
“I’m okay for now.”
“I don’t get it,” says Grace. “You couldn’t stand living with him. You said the day he moved out was the happiest day of your life.”
Karina bristles. She shouldn’t have said such a thing within ear’s distance of Grace. Karina’s hoping she didn’t lack all judgment and say this directly to Grace. She might’ve. She doesn’t ask.
“Let me look after him for a few hours here and there. How about Tuesday and Wednesday evenings?” asks Elise.
“No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I am.”
“No, really, I’m okay.”
“I could at least come over and keep you company.”
Reluctantly, Karina acquiesces. “Okay.”
Elise puts an arm around Karina and hugs her as they walk.
“I’m worried about leaving you alone with Dad.”
“I’m not alone. Elise is coming over Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Don’t worry, honey. I have plenty of help.”
“You don’t. And this is only going to get harder. You realize this, right?”
Karina does, but she doesn’t answer Grace or acknowledge her with a nod. Karina keeps walking, her frozen eyeballs focused on the ground. One step at a time.
“Maybe I should stay home and take this semester off.”
“No, you’re not doing that,” says Karina.
“What if I figured out a way to do the next semester at BU or Northeastern?”
“No. We’re not discussing this. Your father would never want you to do that for him.”
“I’d be doing it for you, not him.”
As much as Karina would love for Grace to stay, to help with Richard and fill the void, she won’t risk Grace’s future. Karina knows all too well that a life derailed, even for a short time, can’t always find its way back to its original track. She never even made it back to the station. No, she won’t let Grace pause her studies, her relationship with Matt, her pursuit of happiness for a semester. For one second. Especially not for Richard. She won’t let Grace make the same mistake she made. That pattern ends with her.
Restless ghosts of unresolved resentment rise to the surface, as full and fresh and haunting as they were twenty years ago, ten years ago, last week. Karina lets the aching pain run through her, the tragic story of how Richard ruined her life, welcoming it for its familiarity, for the way it makes her feel justified.
“You’re not disrupting your life out there.”
“You’re disrupting yours,” says Grace.
“That’s different.”
“She has a point,” says Elise. “You’re not exactly moving on if Richard is living in the den. Can you see your mom bringing a date home? This is the living room, and that’s my ex-husband in the den.”
“Richard isn’t keeping me from dating. I’m not interested in dating.”
“What are you interested in then?” asks Elise.
Getting warm. Ending this conversation.
“How about coming with me and my students on the New Orleans trip?”
“I can’t this year.”
“Why?”
Her ex-husband in the den.
“I think you like having Richard around to blame for things. It’s like a comfortable habit.”
Karina hates to admit it, but there is truth to this. If she blames him, she never has to blame herself.
“You can hire help for a few days, someone to stay the nights,” says Elise.
“I can’t.”
“You won’t.”
“Fine. I won’t.”
“Why?”
Karina doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know. Or maybe she’s beginning to but can’t yet articulate it. She senses something like a program running in the background, an awareness creeping up the basement stairs of her subconscious.
Maybe this horrible, bizarre living situation is giving her and Richard a chance at resolution, at forgiveness. She considers this possibility, first suggested by Bill last week, as the three walk in silence, Elise and Grace waiting patiently for an answer. Karina would like to forgive Richard for uprooting them to Boston; for missing most of Grace’s childhood; for cheating on her, betraying and humiliating her, robbing her of happiness. She’s tried many times over the years. After giving it much thought, she believes Bill, that forgiving Richard would be good for her. What’s the saying? Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. But she hasn’t been big enough or spiritually evolved enough or brave enough to do it. Richard is sick and dying, and she still can’t let him off the hook. Making him wrong allows her to feel right, and feeling right is her drug of choice.
And she’d like to be forgiven. But she can’t bring herself to apologize to Richard, to say the words. She’s handcuffed by shame and a stubborn, self-righteous logic that supports her side of the story. She had her reasons. Maybe her actions now can be the words she’s still too afraid to offer.
“I don’t know,” says Karina.
“I could come back for that,” says Grace. “Go to New Orleans.”
“No, you don’t need to.”
“How many days is it?” asks Grace.
“Four,” says Elise. “Thursday to Sunday. First week of March.”
“I can do that.”
“It’s too much,” says Karina.
“It’s four days, Mom.”
“I mean it’s too much, taking care of him. I’m up all night.”
“I’m young. I stay up all night all the time. I got this. You’re going to New Orleans.”
Elise smiles, patting Grace on the back. “I love this girl.”
They reach the beginning of the trail, where they began. Before stepping off the path and onto the paved road of their neighborhood, Karina looks back for a moment at the frozen reservoir, at the loop they just completed. Like her morning walk, her thoughts and emotions run in circles. Richard is living with her again, and caring for him is more than she can handle, but she can’t ask him to leave, and her entire life is a circle. She’s trapped, never getting anywhere.
“Okay, I’ll go to New Orleans.”
Grace and Elise high-five, celebrating their victory, but Karina doesn’t join in. The trip is a month a way. As she’s recently learned, anything can happen in a month.
They stop in the street in front of their houses to say a brief good-bye. Grace and Elise hug, and Elise wishes her good luck at school. Karina checks the time on her phone. They’ve been gone for forty-five minutes. She hurries to the front door, anxious to get inside, to sit at the table in her warm kitchen with a cozy hot cup of coffee.
She swings open the door, and her stomach drops. Without thinking, she runs toward the den, toward the piercing sound of the BiPAP alarm.