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I do call Stella, because she’s not due back from France for another month and who knows what shape I’ll be in then. I feel guilty for not telling her sooner, for not trusting our friendship or maybe just myself. She responds by bursting into tears on the phone and then booking a flight back the next day. I am relieved, but I am also sad. Why didn’t I tell her sooner? Why didn’t I let her make this journey with me, at least as much as she could? As much as she wanted to? It makes me wonder how many relationships I have consigned to mere acquaintance or colleague when they could have been more if I’d let them. If I’d dared.
Stella comes to my apartment when Isaac is at camp, and when I open the door she hugs me – hard at first, and then more gently.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, did that hurt?’
‘It’s okay.’ I step back, trying to smile, moved by the tears trickling down Stella’s face and feeling my own crowd in my throat.
‘I’m a wreck, sorry. It’s just such a shock. Grace.’ She squeezes my arm. ‘How are you coping? What can I do to help?’
‘Come inside.’ I usher her into the kitchen and make tea while Stella slumps onto a stool.
‘I should be making the tea,’ she exclaims after a few seconds, springing up, full of panicky guilt. I wave her back down.
‘Stella, it’s okay. I like to do things while I can. Soon enough I won’t be able to.’ A tremor enters my voice and I focus on getting out the teabags and mugs. It’s been two and a half weeks since my surgery. Since my life started to end.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Stella blurts as I hand her a mug of tea. ‘I’m still in shock. I just can’t…’ She gulps and shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me if I say the wrong thing, I don’t mean to.’
‘I know.’
‘You seem so calm.’
I shrug. ‘Numb, maybe. I’m trying not to think about it too much.’ I don’t know if that’s a good idea; some things have to be thought about. Dealt with.
Stella shakes her head again as she takes a sip of tea. ‘I’m feeling so sad for myself,’ she admits after a moment. ‘How absolutely selfish of me.’ She glances up. ‘I know you don’t have family…’
I wonder what she’s trying to ask. ‘No, it’s always just been me and Isaac.’ My voice wobbles and I blink hard. I hate thinking of him alone. But of course he won’t be alone if he’s with Heather.
‘What are you going to do?’ Stella asks in a low voice, the question halting. ‘I mean, about Isaac?’
‘I’m not sure.’ That sounds so awful to admit. My son’s whole future, and I’m dithering. ‘I think I’ll probably ask Heather, his birth mother, to be his guardian.’
‘I suppose that makes sense.’ She releases a shuddery breath. ‘You know, if you needed me to… well, anything…’ She lets out an uncertain laugh. ‘Of course you might not want that.’
I realize what she’s suggesting, and I am touched. ‘Oh, Stella.’ I reach over and squeeze her hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘But Heather makes sense,’ Stella says quickly. ‘I understand. So will Isaac move out to New Jersey?’ She can’t quite keep it from sounding as if I’m consigning him to Antarctica, and that almost makes me smile.
‘Yes. I’m not sure how it will work.’ I’ve spent far too much time trying to figure it out, but my mind and heart both keep looping in endless circles. ‘I have a very good life insurance policy, and plenty of money in trust for Isaac. He’ll be provided for, no matter what.’ Heather and her family would have to move to a bigger house, but I’ve consulted my lawyer about the management of the trust fund, and what it could and couldn’t be used for.
It feels a little bit like those good old days, when I was contributing to the household expenses when Heather was pregnant, only on a much bigger level. The McClearys could use my money for a new house, or for anything that would directly benefit Isaac, but my lawyer assures me it can be tightly managed, so no one can take advantage. Not that I think they would… except in my darker moments, I sort of do. I’ve pictured Kev getting his hands on my money to go to the racetrack, or Amy siphoning it off for God knows what, or Heather justifying using it to pay for some little extras, new shoes for her girls, a vacation for all of them. Then I ask myself if I’d mind. There’s enough money, God knows, for stuff like that, and I don’t really think Heather and Kevin are going to blow through my life savings. Still, it hurts. It’s hard to know after all these years, I’m going to have to hand her everything. The most generous thing I could do is make it a gift.
‘And what about school?’ Stella asks. ‘Will he have to leave Buckley?’
‘I’m still trying to figure that one out.’ He could stay where he is and the trust could be used for a driver back and forth, but I’m hesitant to do something like that. It will make Isaac seem like even more of a stranger in his community, but maybe there’s no avoiding that.
But deep down I know the schools aren’t the problem. I know I need to let Heather take care of Isaac, but the truth is that I still don’t want him to be hers. He’s only seven. By the time he’s a teenager I’ll be a distant, blurry memory. Elizabeth will feel like his home. His sisters will seem like his sisters. And Heather will be his mom.
These are thoughts that should ultimately comfort me, and sometimes they do, but sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they just make me feel like I’m losing even more than I thought I was.
‘If there’s anything I can do…’ Stella says. ‘I can have Isaac over, you know, whenever. Absolutely whenever.’
I smile. ‘How about tomorrow, when I have to see my lawyer?’
The next few weeks pass by all too quickly. Stella steps in, taking care of Isaac whenever I ask, and even arranging a special, cancer-oriented home spa day for me – a facial, massage, the whole works. Heather helps too, calling, texting, always in the background. And still I stall.
Then, the first week of August, I decide I am feeling well enough to go on our annual trip to Cape Cod. I know I’m not well enough, however, to go alone with Isaac. I’m so tired, and my hand is still numb, my vision sometimes blurry. I don’t trust myself, and Dr. Stein has warned me that all these lovely symptoms are only going to get worse.
I wish I could spend the week alone with Isaac; it feels so unbearably bittersweet, the last vacation we’ll ever have together, but the truth is I know I can’t. Stella would offer to go with me; Stella and Will together, and I’m tempted. But I know, deep down, who really needs to go with me. And so I call Heather.
