Better Than None Read online

  ****

  I had felt rudderless many times in my life. When I was younger, I think I was in a constant state of searching for something, someone to guide me. Much as I bristled at anyone’s help, just below the surface, that’s what I really needed. I was so used to being the adult to my mom that I never knew that I might need someone to help point me in the right direction. On the rare occasions I sought advice, she would be the one I went to, but it was always framed as it related to her. So usually, I just didn’t ask. I figured it out on my own. Or I floated and steered as well as I could, hoping that whatever currents were taking me would drop me safely at port.

  ****

  When we got home, I wanted his comfort, but I didn’t want to fall so easily back into what we had just like that.

  “I’m here as your friend, Steph.”

  I tried to smile, but everything I did just seemed sad. “I’m not so sure I know how to have friends, Brad. And I’m not so sure you and I should be friends. Not after… everything.”

  “I’m going to keep trying. Until you tell me to stop, I’m going to keep trying to prove to you how sorry I am and how much I want you back. I know you may never forgive me. I understand if you can’t, but I think you have it in your heart to, even when I’m having a hard time forgiving myself.”

  “When is it forgiveness and when is it just being a doormat? ‘Cause I honestly don’t know the difference.”

  We stood in silence for a bit. I knew he understood. He’d been in my position, kind of. He wouldn’t have let himself be a doormat.

  “I’m going to be your friend, Steph. You need a friend. I’m going to prove to you that I’m there for you, as a friend first. If that’s all you can accept, then ok. But I’m not going to just walk away. I can’t. I can’t forgive myself for leaving you once. I’m certainly not going to do it again.”

  “So you’re just here out of some sense of obligation?”

  “Obligation has nothing to do with it. I’m pretty sure I love you. That’s all.”

  Brad may have been a lot of things. A prick. A cold jerk. A jackass. Yes. And more. A liar? Nope. He didn’t have the demeanor to lie. He’d just tell someone what he thought, felt. Regardless of how it might hurt the recipient. So the fact that he just kind of told me that he loved me… well, I knew he wasn’t just blowing smoke up my ass.

  “I don’t know what I feel for you, Brad.” I said honestly. “I think I was falling in love with you and then you broke my heart.” I could see the pain on his face. I wasn’t trying to hurt him. “But figuring out where we stand just isn’t my priority. Even if it were, there’s no way I’d be able to. But right now, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.” He chuckled at the back-handed compliment. “And I think you’re right. For the first time in my life, I’m not too proud to say that I think I need a friend. ‘Cause I just lost my best friend. And not that you’re a substitute, but… fuck, we started becoming friends, Brad. And that’s what I need right now.” I was babbling, unsure if I was making any sense at all.

  “Ok, friends.” He said and held out his arms.

  I looked up into his eyes and hoped he understood what I was going to say next. My mom often said that sex was how adults played. I was far too young to understand what that meant when she first told me. I had no idea what the rules of the games were and regardless, I shouldn’t have been playing. So whether this was how adults played, or comforted each other, I didn’t know. But I needed to be held, and at that moment, I needed more than just a friend could offer.

  “I’m serious… but right now, I need more than that. I need…” I tried to say it, but thankfully I didn’t have to.

  “You need to be made love to.” Brad said so sincerely, like it was obvious. It wasn’t the answer to everything, it might not have been the answer to anything. But in the short time we’d been together, he showed me how good it could be, how so much could be shared and communicated with an act that I never understood until Brad. He was the first man who allowed me to feel. More than that, I was able to get lost in it with him and forget everything else.

  “But it’s just tonight. Tomorrow, we’re friends.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Brad respected my wishes and in the days that followed, he was my friend. That first weekend, he helped me start to clean out Barbara’s house. It was such an incredibly daunting task, I’m not sure how I could have possibly tackled it without him. It was the house I grew up in, and the house my mom lived in for more than 40 years. 40 years of life. There were casserole containers and records and gadgets that were older than I was.

  Some rooms, like the bathrooms, were easy, so we started there. “Dump it all.”

  Brad looked at me skeptically as he pulled out a drawer with medications in it. “You sure?”

  “Pick out one of the meds. Any one.” He did. “What’s the date on it?” I challenged.

  He laughed “1987.” I smiled and he got it. Whatever was in there, old lotions, old medicines, hair brushes, there was no way we were saving or giving any of that away. We started dumping, just pulling out entire drawers. There were brands of shampoo that I’d never even heard of. I knew there would be other rooms where we’d spend more time, likely going through each item individually. But for me at least, I had to start with the stuff that I didn’t have to think about. Plus, I’d lived in this house. I knew those items had been there since I was a kid. Three trash bags were quickly filled and her bathrooms were emptied. I felt a combination of a sense of sadness and accomplishment, and then guilt for the later.

  I was so used to this house, it was my home once. And even once I moved out, I was still there at least once a week before she got sick. And then, in the last few months of course, I was there multiple times a day. Even still, as familiar and comfortable as I was there, I couldn’t help but feel like I was a stranger going through her things. I knew all this stuff, but it wasn’t mine. Regardless, it had to be gone through and my emotions weren’t tied to these things. They were reminders of my mother, but holding onto them wouldn’t bring her back.

  There were some items I kept. Pieces of art, or little nick-nacks that reminded me of her. In her later years, my mom loved her gadgets, so keeping some of them put a smile on my face. I thought briefly that she’d be happy I kept the items I’d once teased her about.

  Brad was a trooper. I’m sure being in a relative stranger’s house going through someone’s personal effects was uncomfortable, but if he had issue with it, he didn’t show it. For a guy who, at one point, I had called an arrogant prick, he simply followed my lead and did what I asked. As we worked, he got to know me, and by extension, Barbara, better. There were some items that warranted no discussion, but others had rich histories and I enjoyed sharing them with him.

  “What grade was this?” he asked, pointing to one of a dozen or so school photos of me prominently displayed in the hallway. This one happened to be one where I was grinning with horribly buck teeth.

  “Second. And that’s third, fourth, fifth…” I pointed to each along the wall.

  “So the braces came along in seventh grade?”

  “Thank God for orthodontics!” I exclaimed and he smiled. “Braces, head gear, neck gear, eight pulled teeth and a retainer that I still wear!”

  “Well, it was worth it. You have a beautiful smile, Steph. Then again, all of you is beautiful.”

  I blushed and mumbled thanks as I turned to the next task. I tried not to confuse what I was feeling, but doing what we were doing was almost more intimate than anything we’d done before.

  I was in my mom’s bedroom packing up some clothes when he came in and looked at the collection of photos of the two of us on her dresser. There were pictures of us at the Grand Canyon, atop the Eifel Tower, in a rowboat both laughing hysterically with our oars flailing… There were probably a dozen photos from the various trips we’d taken over the years and I could recall each of them vividly. He’d seen similar ones at my house and I guess seeing almost dupli
cates here reinforced what I’d told him all along.

  “She really was your best friend.” He stated and I nodded.

  “We did everything together. Everything.” I swallowed and smiled. “I’m sure everyone says this when they lose someone they love, but I still can’t believe that she’s gone. I can’t believe that all those trips, that there won’t be any more with her. I just can’t.” I paused looking at the photos.

  “And those were just the trips. But it’s the day to day that I miss already. You know, we talked every day. Every single day. Usually on drive time, I’d call her on my way to work or on my way home. Her friends would ask her what on earth we talked about, and honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Probably a whole lot of nothing. But other than a few times when I was going through a bratty phase as a teenager, I can’t remember not talking with her.”

  Brad listened, and I liked that he was able to see these photos of her, see her when she looked like the woman I wanted to remember, not the one I’d seen whither away over the last few months. He’d never know who she was beyond the patient, but at least he got to see a glimpse of her. At least I got to share that with him.

  “You never knew her as a person.” I laughed at the thought of it. “Oh my God, if you’d have met her at a party, lord, she would have flirted shamelessly with you! Shit, I remember that first time we met you…” That stopped me for a moment thinking how quickly things had changed. That first meeting wasn’t nearly long enough ago, not to end up where we were now.

  “I’m sorry,” Brad said, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. Two emotions that were rare for him.

  “For my mom?”

  He shook his head. “No, I mean, yes, of course I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more. Done better… But I’m sorry I treated you the way I did that first meeting.”

  Brad was full of surprises. “You remember that?” I was shocked.

  He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head for a second and nodded. “No patient had ever talked to me the way you did.” He smiled. “I feel selfish saying this, with everything. Everything you’re going through. Everything I put you through… but you’ve made me a better man. A better doctor.”

  ****

  It was late Sunday and Brad and I had been cleaning and sorting since Saturday morning. We were still in Barb’s bedroom and I had hesitated opening her jewelry box. I knew there wasn’t much in it, but I also knew that what was might start the waterworks all over again. She had long since stopped wearing her wedding ring, and even as bad as her marriage was, that ring was a symbol of so many things, both right and wrong. I also knew I’d find my grandmother’s wedding ring that she had passed down to my mom. I never knew my grandfather, but my mom always told me I would have loved him. There was a gold bracelet that she bought when we were in New York one year, the first year after my folks split. I had convinced her that we needed to get out of town for the holidays to take her mind off of the breakup, and that was the first of many of our trips together. And there was a letter addressed to me. The jewelry I had expected to find. The letter was a complete surprise.

  She had obviously written this after she had been sick because the handwriting wasn’t the perfect penmanship that I’d seen throughout my life. The shaky ‘Stephanie’ on the envelope was enough to make me tear up. I was almost afraid to open it, afraid of what I’d find. I couldn’t imagine there was anything left to say. We had said everything, over and over to each other. Not just during her illness, but throughout our lives. I knew I was fortunate. As awful as it was watching her suffer, I knew other people didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, to make sure everything they wanted to say got said. I wasn’t sure which was better or worse: having the time to say all those things meant watching a loved one suffer. But, conversely, being blessed with that extra time. The alternative was having a loved one snatched from this world without notice, whether in a car accident or a heart attack or something equally unexpected and final. They wouldn’t have suffered, but their family never got the chance to say goodbye. Both options sucked. There was no ideal. Not when it came to this.

  With everything we went through together, I didn’t think there would be anything left unsaid. Obviously she did, so I scooted back onto her bed and slowly slid my finger under the edge of the envelope, like I was afraid that whatever was inside might pop out.

  To my daughter, my best friend, my little Stephy,

  Where do I begin? Even as I write that I realize that if this were anything other than what it is, I’d be asking you that question in earnest. And you’d patiently talk me through it. And we might argue. We’d probably giggle. And you’d guide me, and I’d tell you that you’re brilliant, and you’d roll your eyes and huff at my praise. But this, I can’t ask you. This one, I have to do on my own. As your mother.

  I know I haven’t always been that to you. I never really knew how to be a mom. And you were so mature at such a young age, I thought I didn’t need to be a mother to you. But as grown up as you were, you always seemed like you needed a friend. So that’s who I became to you. Your friend. Your best friend. I never understood why you weren’t surrounded by friends your own age. You’ve always been so full of love and warmth, I couldn’t understand how other people weren’t automatically attracted to it. For whatever reason, their loss was my gain.

  I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life over these last few months. I wish it were different. I wish you didn’t have to see me this way. I hate that you do. But I’m not quite sure what I would have done if you weren’t here. Of course, you were. As you’ve always been. And I know that hasn’t always been easy. I know you’ve taken care of me, sometimes more than I’ve taken care of you. I hope you’re not keeping track, cause I’d hate to see the final tally. But I don’t think that’s you. I know it isn’t. In fact, as I reflect, the only things I truly know are as they relate to you.

  I know that you’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman. Period. And I know that I’m the luckiest mother to have you as my friend and daughter. I also know that I’ve never been as strong as you. It just wasn’t me, Stephy. Throughout this horrible disease, the one thing that’s scared me the most hasn’t been the treatments or the side effects or any of that miserableness. What scares me the most is the thought that you wouldn’t have a ‘you’ taking care of you if god-forbid, you ever needed someone.

  I hope Dr. Rosenberg does. Yes, honey, I know. I know you think you’re so good at keeping secrets, but the one thing I know is men. I may not have always made the best choices, but that’s a topic for another conversation. One we’ve had too many times over the years. Regardless, I know you. And I know men. And, I don’t always drift off to sleep during chemo. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. And I knew that if I brought it up you’d just roll your eyes and try to convince me I was crazy. So I didn’t. But I know, honey.

  I hope he’s a good man. I hope he’s the best man. Because you deserve the best. I never got the best. Sometimes, I never even got that good. But as similar as we are, we’re so, so different. And for once, this isn’t about me.

  I know if you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer here. I’m sorry for leaving you. I never thought I would, or at least not this early. But maybe me leaving is what you needed to let someone else in.

  This disease has been the worst thing imaginable. Worse than that. But even still, I’m the luckiest woman in the world because of you. I may have done a lot of things wrong, but I got one thing right: you.

  I love you, Stephy.

  Mom

  I could barely get through the letter, having to stop multiple times to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Brad watched me, patiently. All this time I thought I knew my mom. I know I did. But this letter… maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought.

  I looked at him and as usual, couldn’t quite read his expression, but I thought, hell with it. He’d seen so much already, he deserved to see this too. So I handed him the letter and
waited as he read it. As he got to the end, I saw the corners of his mouth turn up making it clear what part he got to. When he finished, in usual Brad fashion, he didn’t say anything. He simply put the letter down on the bed, walked over to me and lifted me into a tight hug. Maybe Barb was right after all.

  ****

  After spending all weekend with Brad, on my drive into work I already missed him. And then my phone rang.

  “Brad? Is everything ok?” I answered.

  “You said you talked with your mom on drive time. I thought you might need some company on your way into the office.”

  My heart melted. He was living up to his word and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Well, I’d ask you how your weekend was, but since you spent 12 hour days putting things into boxes with me, I think I know.”

  “My weekend was perfect. I spent it with the woman I love and helped her the best that I could during her time of need. I couldn’t ask for a better weekend.”

  I was tongue-tied and there was a long bit of silence.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  I smiled. “I’m here.”

  “Oh. Thought I might have lost you there.”

  “We’re talking cell reception, right?”

  “I’m smiling. You can’t see it, but I’m smiling.”

  And now, I was grinning. “I can hear it. And I am too.”

  “Good. So, busy week ahead?” He was trying. I knew he wasn’t one for small talk, yet here he was.

  “Actually, I have no idea. It feels like I’ve been away from work for ages even though it’s only been a few days.”

  “Have you thought about taking time off?” He asked, now sounding like Marty.

  Brad already knew that I hadn’t been at the agency for very long before my mom got sick, so we talked about that, and before I knew it, I was pulling into the parking lot at work.

  When I got to my desk I texted him.

  Thank you for the call.