One Life at a Time

“May I have this dance?”

Mid-text to the wedding planner thanking her for a beautifully curated event, she glanced up from her phone to see a familiar outstretched hand. Almost instantaneously, without thinking, she responded by meeting him with her free one. Brushing a rugged, calloused palm against her smooth manicured fingers, he firmly gripped the body part he had stared at most since he first laid eyes on her. Adorned with a simple rose gold ring, the three-link-chain of oval diamonds glittered more noticeably than ever in the moonlight - taken. Although this was the first time he felt its physical presence, the barrier, between them. Unable to resist his preoccupation with the object, he traced its circumference with his thumb. Sensing a shift in his focus, she held his gaze to reassure him that his question was not a completely inappropriate one. In the eyes of many, the occasion may even call for such an interaction. Mother-of-the-bride and father-of-the-groom synchronizing their steps as an inaugural act in the merging of two families. The temperature had cooled as the evening progressed and her periwinkle satin slip dress went from a practical yet elegant end-of-the-summer choice to one that left her feeling bare.

“You cold?”

Up until that moment, she didn’t even realize she was shivering. Drawing near to him her slender body began to relax and warm from the heat his own gave off effusively. He was always saying things like that - noticing her. Sometimes it seemed like he could tell exactly what she was thinking. How else could she explain the innate draw she consistently sensed in his presence without ever having an affirming conversation? To feel cared for by this man, even known by him on some level had been a consistent source of conflict for her. Far easier was to convince herself their connection was a construct of her overactive imagination which historically sought out a rescuer rather than her heightened intuition.

Both arms of his buttoned-up white linen shirt remained damp from earlier when the vow exchange perfectly juxtaposed a setting, yet scorching sun backdrop. Sandalwood, sweat, and Jack Daniels, faintly hung in the air as they seamlessly glided together. The band was wrapping up the night with the cliche overly-requested slow songs they could no longer delay. A couple of fireworks exploded in the distance abruptly transporting her from what could have been to the present - Labor Day weekend, a much-anticipated celebration coming to an end as the next generation settles the unfinished business of the generation before. A union of love between her daughter and his son.

Lee gently patted her on the back as the song came to an end. “Lovely day,” his voice drifted off.

“Yeah….It was. Congratulations to us! And to them….” She paused wondering if that came out right. Typically she didn’t miss an opportunity to correct an awkward silence but she was trying not to ruin the moment by overthinking. It was on her list of codependent habits-to-break and she made a mental note of this achievement. Implementing the motto - One Day at a Time - especially on this monumental day, was proof of how far she had come. The corners of her mouth turned up as she attempted to smooth out his creased shirt produced by its retained moisture and her rested hand. “Well, you better finish making your rounds.”

“You too Jewly. Thanks for the dance.”

Most tables had vacated leaving clusters of half-drunk glasses reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lanterns. Jewel scanned the courtyard, proud of herself for insisting on the addition of ground lighting though they were already over budget. Drunk people can’t find their way out of most well-lit bars. No sense in giving them an excuse to stay longer than what the rental agreement specified. It seemed to work nicely on this particular night when the moonlight was unpredictably peeking in and out of cloud coverage. People were gradually trickling out or rather stumbling to their ride-shares. She bent down to get a whiff of the centerpiece once more, knowing tomorrow she would return to salvage as many of the surviving flowers during cleanup to basque in the glory of tonight for hopefully another week. The sprigs of gardenias were sprinkled throughout the white rose and daisy bouquet reminding her of carefree summers in the south long before fine strands of gray sprouted from her chignon; before life had taught her wisdom. She spotted the few remaining guests, mid-20-something and bridesmaids on the dance floor as the music beat picked up, uninhabited except for their phone in hand documenting the occasion for social media purposes. Although she admired their gumption, there was not one tiny part of her that would trade places with them. Their young, wrinkle-free faces for her life experience was an unthinkable negotiation. The best man, her son, and husband appeared from behind, observing the same scene, likely with much different thoughts in mind. “Does anything else need to be done, Mom?” His voice was clear with only a hint of anxiety. She wished she could fulfill his need to be helpful but even the idea of coming up with a task for him was too taxing at that point.

“It's all done!” She held her near-empty wine glass tilted in their direction. They clinked their mystery beverages to hers on cue. Beau had the same chiseled jaw-line as his father and the two standing together in their matching suits could have been each other's shadows. Similar heights, similar builds, and a kind of handsome that never aged. Pride radiated through her as she tried to take it all in; vacillating between the ultimate high of the here and now with the long arduous road that they all traveled to get there.

Nina was married to Jake, Beau's childhood best friend and Lee's son. In a way, she was now part of the family she had longed to be part of during her darkest hours as a means to escape her own circumstances. The fantasy was an entanglement she couldn’t help but wonder had been manifested into reality by her own doing.

The bride was a gorgeous version of herself in a classic ivory 2-piece spaghetti-strap bodice and chiffon trumpet skirt. Her long wavy chestnut hair, half-pulled back, loosely secured with a rhinestone barrette, flowed over her sun-kissed shoulders. She approached her daughter sliding an arm around her waist, and touching head-to-head affectionately but light enough not to disturb a strand of her perfectly coifed hair. Another thought she was having trouble with as the evening progressed was this stranger was indeed her little girl. It just couldn't be the same frog-loving, dirt-under-fingernails, tangled-hair child she had raised. The disconnect was too great between the elegant woman standing in front of her and the girl who refused to wear pink or dresses for longer than what could be justified as a phase. The one that would lament when the stains on her favorite sweatshirt were too visible to go another day unwashed. She unwaveringly sought out comfort in life. Considering this, her choice of husband was not a surprising one. They grew up together. She tagged along when Jake and Beau rode their bikes to the nearest gas station in town to buy a Coke and bag of Takis. Soda or spicy food were not her favorites but venturing out with them was a safe form of an adventure during those days.

“Thanks for everything, Mom,” her deep blue eyes glistened. Happy tears, perhaps, but Nina dreaded change and this was a more plausible reason behind the dampness. Unlike her husband and son, she and Nina shared few notable physical characteristics. However, on the inside, they were indistinguishably plagued by the same fears. A seemingly reticent exterior gave the overall impression that they were made of steel, but it was only a byproduct of what they had been through together. In fact, anyone looking in from the outside might mistake them for being indomitable. Not that they were particularly interested in maintaining an unblemished, distorted outward appearance. Some things just can’t be wrapped up in a perfect box and kept out of sight, and the thing that happened to afflict their family was one of those.

“Ninaaaaa…Beauuuuu…dinner’s ready.” They didn’t appear at first. Jewel knew that it was going to take at least a couple more calls until the back door would swing open prompting her to remind them not their track their muddy boots through the house. Relishing her newly found independence inherited at the milestone of the kids turning 10 and 12, she felt herself slipping into the role of a nag. Since allowing them free reign of the 45-acre family farm kept her breath in her chest no more, the mess left in their wake became her utmost priority. She prided herself on not being a helicopter-type mother during any period of her children’s younger years. Nonetheless, certain dangers loomed in the countryside. Having grown up on a farm herself, she was always considering the possibilities - poison ivy, snake bites, and if left to their own devices for long enough her mind would conjure up the the panic-driven thought of an accidental drowning. Assured in their ability to identify a poisonous snake or death noodle the kids called them, to swim, and neither had proved to be allergic to poison ivy like her, she smugly basked in ephemeral security. Inhaling and exhaling at a steady pace, she noted how peaceful fixing a dinner from start to finish, uninterrupted, had become comparing it to the chaos of years past. Even the pots and pans relaxed in the oversized porcelain sink, fond soaking up the sudsy water. Though the penne was cooling at a faster pace than her kids, she recognized a contentment that she had not felt in a long time. All was right with the world. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. The consuming goal of healthy, happy children had been accomplished. While giving herself a subliminal pat on the back, she heard the gravel crunch under her husband’s work truck as he pulled up the driveway, tapping the horn just lightly enough to make a noise and let everyone know he was home. The late-summer sun fell into the tree line beyond the pasture perimeter as layers of violet, fuchsia, and periwinkle floated in the sky above. How many of these sunsets had she missed from her kitchen window? This must be the motherhood sweet spot everyone talks about. Her bliss was short-lived by interruption when the door slammed open against the opposing wall.

“Mom, Beau threw an egg at me and it got in my hair.”

“Ohhh don’t be such a baby! It slipped from my hand and you dared me to do it.”

“Because you said that I couldn’t catch it.”

“Well you didn’t”

“Ok, ok.” Jewel tried to follow the bullet points assessing whether she needed to interject. “It is supposed to be good for your hair…the protein or something. Anyway, you should leave it in for a nice hair treatment and wash it out after dinner. Sound good?”

“No, it’s disgusting.”

“Can Jake stay for dinner? He’s outside talking to dad.” Beau didn’t miss a beat.

“Sure. Do you have any eggs for me that you didn’t break?” She quipped.

Jewel chuckled to herself recounting those frivolous arguments between the three of them and the proverbial calm before the storm. Jake balanced out the highly competitive energy Nina and Beau thrived on. He was the great mediator, the peacemaker, the glue that temporarily held their house of cards in place. Once they became teenagers those cards would buckle and fold but for a while Jewel could rely on them all sitting down for a family meal, genuinely laughing together without a trace of trepidation in their voices. She rarely thought back that far. It was like trying to return to an idyllic dream upon waking up and realizing it was just a dream. Taking the last swig of her chardonnay, she twirled the stem in between her thumb and forefinger before giving Nina one last squeeze and departing to locate a serving tray for her glass.

************

Fentanyl takes another paramedic's life in a neighboring town. Narcan will become available over the counter. Two Grange County high-schoolers overdose within 2 months. Infant’s death linked to fentanyl - investigation is underway - news stories highlighted the American crisis no one appeared to be addressing. For decades D.A.R.E programs in schools claimed effectiveness without evidence. A War on Drugs had not been declared since the 1970s but it was being fought inside homes across the nation indiscriminately - poor, rich white, black, rural, urban. Substance abuse was deeply embedded into the backbone of society, like a slow-growing cancer, metastasizing from sea to shining sea. For the most part, Jewel tried to avoid the news but the non-practicing attorney in her found its contents unavoidable. Overly confident that her own children were sailing through high school unscathed by this teenage epidemic, she found a brief sense of relief among the dire headlines. Thumbing through the mail while simultaneously absorbing each bit of information, tension began to resettle in her shoulders. Bill…bill…bill…bill…an atypical envelope addressed to the Parent(s) of Beau Walker caught her eye. Shoving it into her pocket she spun around feeling a presence behind her. “Oh, Hi honey. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know the world is going to hell according to the news.” Darren grabbed the remote and hit mute. His hair was flattened down against his forehead from recently removing the baseball often worn to play up his interest in sports. Sandy-blonde ends curled up and she could tell that he must have missed his appointment for a trim this week. “Where are the kids?”

“Nina has track practice after school today and Beau is probably at Jake’s hanging out until he has to pick Nina up," she answered after taking a minute to recall the day of the week.

“Well, they didn’t do the chores they were supposed to do over the weekend and are ignoring my texts.” His tone reflected an understandable irritation as he held out the neatly written checklist beginning with clean out the chicken coop.

“I’ll give them a call.” Her voice trailed off but he was already headed toward the garage in the opposite direction. She pulled the letter out from her flannel house coat. Usually school mail was sent together listing both of the kid's names as the recipients. An uneasiness settled in recounting the strained interactions between her and Beau over the past month, his mercurial moods. Unfolding the stamped letter from Hancock High School:

The student (Beau Walker) is in violation of the school’s policy strictly prohibiting the possession, use, or sale of drugs and alcohol on campus property at any time according to Chapter 5 sections 1-8 outlined in the student handbook. Disciplinary action involving the violation will result in expulsion. You may appeal this notice within 5 days.

A wave of shock hit her full force but it was outrage that clouded her ability to clearly discern the message she had just read from the superintendent. She had to reread his words again and again before making sense of it. What has gotten into him with less than a month of school left until graduation? He is going to mess up his whole life if his father doesn’t end it first. How am I going to fix this? Appeal, of course, she was trained to find the loopholes in these situations. It must be a huge misunderstanding to begin with and that’s how she would downplay this whole mess to Darren. Tiny beads of sweat began to form along her brow as her initial anger toward Beau dissolved into worry. Protecting her son from his hotheaded dad was a role she played frequently - liaison between the two - operating in de-escalation mode. She mustered together all her scattered energy. Using it to override the initial response of her activated sympathetic nervous system, she forced herself into a seated position in front of the computer. There, she elicited every bit of legal mindedness and began to type her petition for revocation to the school board. Fingertips strummed rhythmically across the keyboard trying to keep up with her racing thoughts. Once unlocked, the vibration from her phone didn’t even break the hyper-focused ability that helped her earn each degree with ease. This matter was personal stirring a passion far more intense than even her law school mock trials had brought forth.

As she wrapped up the closing sentence of her compelling written plea, the cat moved in her peripheral vision and she heard the leaf blower outside turn off. An awareness of her surroundings was returning but in a foggy, delayed form. She picked up her phone to see a missed call from Nina.

"Jewel!" Darren barged in. “They can’t find Beau. Nina or Jake! No one has heard from him all day.”