Maureen and her mother leaned against each other as they waved good bye to Cal. It had been a long day for both, but another event was still in store for the younger woman; an event she had no inclination of.
Cal had asked Maureen to marry him the night before at the Olive Garden. Maureen had said yes but no too; she'd played a silly trick on him about being a virgin; saying she couldn't marry him until he lost his cherry. He'd given it up to her later that very evening. In fact he'd given it up, and given it up, and given it up.
Technically Maureen hadn't been a virgin, but the experience she'd had with Cal was her first 'true' romantic encounter; it was far different from the two other times she'd been with boys. It was something she'd remember for the rest of her life; something she'd cherish for always.
They'd gone to the tavern the next night where she thought she'd tricked him again. He'd asked her to marry him, that was true, but only he and she and her mother knew it. At the tavern she manipulated him into publicly announcing their engagement, but then he 'one upped' her by telling everyone about the condition she'd placed on her acceptance. After that he asked for volunteers among the ladies to make him eligible for marriage. The girls all understood the joke and most volunteered to help him out. It was an embarrassing but heartwarming few minutes.
Later he took her home and dropped her off. Cal had to attend to his dog Maggie, and Maureen's mom, Andrea, wanted to have a heart to heart with her daughter.
Maureen's mom had suffered through her own tribulations over the years helping her daughter struggle with her injuries. Andrea stood beside the now hale and healthy young woman she had helped make whole, it hadn't been easy.
Even after twenty years the awful sight of her precious baby lodged beneath that fearsome branch horrified her; it was a nightmare from which she was never quite able to escape. She remembered those first seconds of desperation; trying to dislodge the limb from her screaming child, then the terrifying wait after she called 911.
That had been twenty years ago, and now, even now, standing on the porch, her palms would get sweaty and her limbs would start to shake. Standing on the porch with her arm around her daughter the terror of those first moments were as stark and real as when they first occurred. It was an enervating remembrance; an omnipresent fear.
She remembered every single minute, every single day, the arrival of the paramedics, the fright in their eyes; their grim solicitude convinced her child's chances were nonexistent. She remembered their frantic efforts to lift the branch, finding her husband's chain saw, cutting the limb away, the baleful screams of her little girl every time the branch moved even just a fraction of an inch.
Riding in the ambulance that day was the longest trip of her life. How much pain killer could one give a four year old; not much. The high pitched agonizing screams, the sight of little bones extruding through tensed muscles, the pathetic pleas for help, and those green eyes crying out for her mommy's help; these were terrors she relived every single day of her life.
Andrea had relived those moments, those hours of helplessness every waking moment of her life. Maureen was her little girl, her only little girl. The doctors had said she could have no more children; it didn't matter, to lose one, to lose one in the manner that had been shaping up was unthinkable.
As Andrea watched Cal drive away thoughts of those first days and weeks crowded in. Of course, they had never, ever, been far from her consciousness. She remembered the long hours that turned into days at the hospital. There had been the homeward ambulance trip; that trip wherein she was sure the doctors and nurses believed they were sending her child, her baby, home to die.
For days after their return Andrea had been afraid to go to sleep, even to close her eyes. What if she dozed off and her baby left her in those fleeting moments? Even after twenty years she still habitually awakened just to check, just to see. During the first year of Maureen's great adventure away at college she called day and night, to check in, fearful.
She recalled how finally it had been Maureen who had put her foot down. Maureen had insisted she stop constantly calling; explaining that she was able to fend for herself. She stopped the daily phone calls, but she still worried. She also knew Maureen had forgotten her accident; she would never understand how fearful her mother was; she'd never know the terror.
During those first days after the hospital Andrea's trauma never abated, her fear never receded, but her lonely vigil was eased considerably when the hospital called with news they'd found a full time, affordable, nurse. That had been Cal's mother, Ms. Burkheim. She thought her first name had been Lauren or was it Dorothy, she didn't recall?
When Cal's mom arrived it opened the opportunity to find work to help pay the costs. She never dreamed how much doctors and medicines cost. She and her husband were buried under an unbelievable mountain of debt almost overnight. They were lucky; a government loan, a local funding project and her husband's veteran's benefits, had enabled them to get a good mortgage contract. Without it they would have been homeless very quickly.
Her husband had one job; he found another, a second job. She found a job at the local thrift store. It didn't pay much, but it enabled her to be close by if a crisis emerged, and there were crises.
Cal's mom brought her little boy with her. They stayed on day and night. She remembered Cal so well. He was a lonely little boy. He needed a place to hang his cap, and her daughter needed a companion.
Andrea reflected on the influence Cal had on her daughter. She, Andrea, remembered when she was a little girl her dad had brought a puppy home once. That little dog was the ugliest damn dog she'd ever seen, a little brown thing with grotesquely long gray whiskers, but she fell in love it with it right away. Tragically the puppy had a spinal deformity, and as it grew, it became increasingly unable to get about; any movement was a painful battle.
She remembered that tiny little dog sleeping all day; waiting for her father to get home. When her dad got home the dog came to life; like it's only reason for hanging around was to get glimpse of her dad, a chance at some feeble play. In the end they had to put the dog down.
Andrea squeezed her now strong grown daughter's waist. She thought about the way Maureen used to looked at that little boy, Cal. She remembered thinking about how her daughter reminded her of that little dog; the only thing keeping her daughter going being the presence of that little boy. Andrea knew that young man who just pulled away had saved her daughter's life.
Andrea looked at her daughter, her happy visage, her wonderful blissful innocent smile; to think the boy putting the color in her daughter's cheeks tonight was that self same boy who'd done the very same thing two decades before.
Andrea looked at Maureen and smiled, "Shall we go in?"
Maureen smiled back at her mom, "OK."
As they crossed the threshold into the kitchen Maureen thought of her mother. She loved her mother; she'd do anything for her, but she hoped tonight they could skip the mother daughter talk.
Maureen felt all dreamy about Cal. All she wanted to do was go to bed, and fantasize about her hero, the newly discovered center of her universe, her lover. Sure her mom was important, she'd always been there when she needed her, sometimes when she didn't need to be there too, but the time was coming when she was going to have to start to let go. She couldn't pretend to try to protect her forever. Maureen was a grown woman. She needed her space.
The two women went inside; they crossed through the cluttered old kitchen to the living room. Maureen could see her daughter was tired and obviously preoccupied, certainly about the young man who'd just left, but she still needed to talk.
Andrea asked, "May I get you a drink or something?'
Maureen answered, "No I'm good."
Mom kept up the one sided banter, "Come on in. Let's sit on the sofa a while."
As they both sat on the old sofa Maureen sort of assumed this was going to be another one of those big mother daughter talks. Her mom would probably warn her not to rush into anything, to make sure this was really the right boy, to admonish her about early pregnancies, birth control, fidelity, or worse, abortions. They'd had these same talks a hundred times.
Maureen decided to sit and listen; confident her mother only had her best interests at heart. She'd be a good girl. She figured she had a good answer for all the stuff her mom might bring up. She'd let her mother ramble and amble on, let her talk till she ran out of steam, then they could both go to bed, her mom satisfied she'd gotten her points across, and she, Maureen, satisfied she'd been the dutiful daughter.
OK, maybe she was being a little condescending, but she loved her mother. If sitting through another long lecture made her mom happy, then it was the right thing to do.
Andrea sat down beside her daughter on the sofa. She sat in the center of the couch on her daughter's left making sure Maureen would get the benefit of the better lighting from the end table. She glanced down at her daughter's now strong, powerful, muscular legs. She remembered not so longer ago the brittle little bones, the emaciated little sinews. Her girl had grown up to be a strong, intelligent, sometimes willful, but always wonderful young woman. Yes, she'd beaten the odds. She was so proud of her. She loved her so very much.
Andrea took her daughter's hand, "You really love him?"
Maureen thought, uh oh, we're going into the let's make sure you know what you're doing mode, "I do mom."
"You and he, you've both thought this thing through?"
A nasty thought skipped across Maureen's brain. What if she said something like, no we're just two assholes out on a lark. She didn't though, she could put up with another well meaning motherly interrogation, "Not exactly, we're in love, we're old enough, and I think we both know what we want."
Andrea's squeezed Maureen's hand. It was a good strong womanly hand now; once it hadn't been that way. She looked at her daughter's fingernails. She remembered polishing them for her when she was little.
She mentally slapped herself, she had to stay focused, "I've talked to your father. He knows the boy, and thinks he's a wonderful choice, a good fit for you. Oh, and Jared, Cal's grandfather, you know him, he's already in love with you."
Maureen looked up, surprised. She asked, "How does dad come to know Cal?"
Andrea gave her daughter's hand another squeeze. She thought she really is an innocent, "I'll come to that in a minute. But first there are some things I want to talk to you about, and I have some things to show you."
Maureen thought her mom hadn't given an opinion about Cal yet. She brought it up, "You haven't said anything yet. How do you feel?"
Andrea burst out, she bubbled forth, "Oh I think he's a wonderful choice. You and he are a perfect fit. But there are some things I want to tell you. Will you listen?"
Maureen thought, uh oh, she has objections. She didn't say that though. She gave her mom a warm, slightly condescending, smile, "Of course mom, but I've made up my mind."
Andrea reached over and picked a piece of lint off her daughter's dress and flicked it on the floor, "I don't want you to change your mind. I only want to help you better understand."
Maureen leaned back slightly, "Understand? What's not to understand?"
