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We glanced over at our father. Does he know? Does he realize like our mother that James and Byron are abusive? It was an unspoken question but one that he seemed to read on my face. Of course Byron leaves physical evidence, I thought to myself. Michaela’s bruises weren’t a one-time thing. I knew this. Usually Byron hit Michaela where her bruises wouldn’t show. Michaela and I glanced at each other and then at Pop. We were both hoping that our father didn’t know exactly how fucked up our marriages were.
Pop leaned forward in his chair. His elbows rested on his powerful thighs. “I know,” he finally said. “I try not to interfere. Your mother does enough for us both. Although if Yancy hadn’t stopped me last time Micki came over with bruises on her face I would have taken my shotgun and paid Byron a visit.” His voice was rough and husky. “A man isn’t a man who uses his fist on a woman especially when that woman is one of my little girls.”
“I’m sorry Daddy,” Micki replied as if it were her fault somehow.
“For what Micki?” He asked taking her in. His eyes were focused directly on her face. You could see all the love Jack Dawson had for his daughter clearly evident on his face.
“For allowing it to happen,” she replied with tears running down her cheeks like a fountain.
“Micki stop,” my father said.
My sister Gemma patted my sister’s leg comfortingly. It was amazing she had the forthright to do so. You had to know Gemma to understand this. Gemma thought of no one but Gemma.
“You girls need to figure things out for sure but what you have isn’t what marriage is about. Men who love you don’t treat you this way. I know it was hard when your mom and I fought. We were both stubborn and mule headed but we loved each other. You girls knew that?”
The four of us nodded in agreement.
He smiled reassuringly. “Then start making decisions that make your lives better,” Pop said with love. “It is not that hard.”
Pop rarely spoke to us like this but it was powerful when he did. His large hands clasped between his knees. His eyes round and intense were focused on his daughters. His two oldest daughters, the biggest screw ups he was trying to make an impact on. I watched him, tilting my head to one side. I loved Pop like no other. There was something special about him but I was sure all daughters felt that way about their fathers.
My sisters carried on with their conversation sharing more stories about our childhood. I was listening to their conversation half-heartedly when out of the corner of my eye I caught Doctor Winkle walking towards us. Shooting out of my chair, I walked towards him. My sisters were right behind me but I was the first to reach him. Pop brought up the rear.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Jack, girls, it was worse than we thought.” The doc ran his hand through his silver hair making it stick up worse than it was. “She’s definitely going to need further treatment. She and I discussed this possibility but she wouldn’t agree to a complete mastectomy, which is what the surgeon would have done. A mastectomy might or might not have made the difference. I don’t know. We won’t know. We have to pray for the best with the chemo or radiation or both. The surgeon will discuss that with her in a day or two. I’m sorry I wish my news was more encouraging. She’ll be in recovery in about ten minutes. You can go in and see her briefly.”
I rotated towards my family and they had the same horrified look that I was sure had crossed my face. We could lose Yancy…the biggest pain in our asses but our mother who we loved without thought just the same.
Chapter Eleven
Yancy was incoherent most of the time that my father, sisters and I stayed with her as the doctor had her heavily drugged to ease her pain following the surgery. A bandage encircled her breasts. She mumbled incoherently from time to time but otherwise Yancy drifted in and out of sleep blissfully unaware of our misery and worry.
Keegan didn’t need to know what Doctor Winkle had told us following Yancy’s surgery. She had enough on her mind coming to terms with one grandmother dying from cancer she didn’t need to know right away that the other grandmother was in for the fight of her life.
The thought that my mother could die? An unfathomable notion for me to think about. To accept? Not happening. She couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let her. I walked towards Paddy’s alone and unafraid of being out in the dark of night on the streets of Hell. Hell was safe. I could have walked through town at three a.m. buck naked and felt just as safe as I did now at nine o’clock. People would have thought me strange for being naked or maybe not. I probably would have heard just one of the Dawson girls being well a Dawson girl but again nothing would have happened to me.
My obligatory phone call to James was put to bed. Surprisingly he had actually behaved as if he had a heart offering sympathy as we spoke. I had explained about Yancy’s surgery and Doctor Winkle’s uncertain prognosis. He attempted to console me showing the hint of sensitivity that I thought I had only imagined in him when I first met him. Promising to call him tomorrow we were preparing to hang up when he told me, “I love you.”
How foreign the words sounded coming from him, words I hadn’t heard in a long while. Hesitating, the same words would not come from my mouth. I couldn’t say what was not in my heart. I cou
ldn’t pretend any longer. The tears welled up in my eyes because I knew that I couldn’t say that I loved him too. Now was as good a time as any to tell him I wanted out of our marriage.
James misunderstood my tears. He said to me that he knew I loved him too. Wrong! Wrong my heart screamed. I want out of our marriage. I wanted to come home to Hell. I wanted Kerry McCoy god help me. Then, the exchange was over when I placed the handset back into the cradle ending the call without ending anything else.
I left Yancy’s empty house, not wanting to be alone. Keegan had gone to Michaela’s house to spend the night with Wynne. Pop had stayed at the hospital with Yancy for the entire night. Me and an empty house not a good idea. Me on the loose in Hell really not a good idea.
#
Patrick was behind the bar when I opened the heavy door. He smiled at me as I made my way through the crowded bar and found a stool near the end. Paddy’s had its’ regular patrons. Most I knew by name. You didn’t live in a small town and not know each other by name or know each other’s business. The pitfall of living in a small town.
“How’s your mother?” He asked knowing about Yancy’s surgery. Everyone in Hell knew about Yancy’s surgery because Harriet Mills had spread the word. I was somewhat surprised that the town didn’t know about her prognosis as well. Adin had talked with Harriet following the surgery as she was my mother’s best friend. Maybe Adin hadn’t told her what Doctor Winkle had told us?
My eyes filled with tears and I sniffed to try to stop them from spilling over onto my cheeks. “She’s not good Paddy,” I told him. I gave him the details that Dr. Winkle had given us after Yancy’s surgery. The chemo and possible radiation. The recommended mastectomy my mother had refused. The pain and the fear of losing her all came out in a rush of tears and words.
Patrick put down his dishrag and walked around the end of the bar. When he was standing in front of me he put his big arms around me and held me tight.
“I’m sorry sweet girl,” he told me comfortingly. “I know how much you love that woman.” Only God knows why, I thought I heard him mutter beneath his breath. No love lost between Paddy and my mother. I would have laughed if I weren’t so sad. “It’s not fair. How’s your dad holding up?” He kept his arms around me and the loud bar suddenly became so very quiet.
