Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [95]
She began going to AA meetings twice a day.
Kathleen brought her father teas and herbs that she bought from a well-respected healer in Chinatown. She put a jar of polished runes on his nightstand—smooth green stones that she told him were for decoration, though in truth she had bought them because it was once believed that they could bring the dead back to life. She lit chakra candles at his bedside that were said to unblock points of stress in the body and allow for white blood cells to thrive. Every morning, as usual, she meditated for two solid hours, but now rather than concentrating on herself, she focused on her father’s insides, communing with the cancer, willing it to shrink and vanish.
Her family, including Daniel, made fun of her, and she laughed, too, as if to say, I know it’s goofy, but indulge me. She realized it was probably bullshit, but why not try? Sometimes she even believed that maybe it would work.
In early October, Alice showed up at Kathleen’s house, a foil-wrapped package in her hands.
“What’s that?” Kathleen asked, meeting her at the door, annoyed that Alice hadn’t thought to call ahead. She was still in her pajamas and had been out in the back garden in the middle of her morning meditation.
“A coffee cake I got you at the Fruit Basket. Very moist. Delicious.”
“A coffee cake you got me, or a coffee cake you and Daddy ate half of before you decided to bring it over here?”
“You’ve always liked cinnamon swirl.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You don’t want it, fine. Truth is, you’re putting on the pounds lately. Understandable given what’s happened, but still, you have to watch yourself.”
Kathleen took in a deep breath. She had only just begun trying to practice patience with her mother, and already she was failing.
They went into the kitchen and sat down. Immediately, Kathleen saw the room through Alice’s eyes. She had never been particularly tidy, but since her father got sick she had gotten worse. There were dishes stacked precariously a foot above the rim of the sink. She hadn’t taken the trash out in a week, and the plastic bin was overflowing. When she realized that one of the dogs had peed on the linoleum floor earlier that morning, Kathleen had covered the yellow puddle with a paper towel, planning to deal with it after she’d had her coffee.
“Can I get you anything, Mom?” she asked.
“No, I’ll only stay a minute. Your father needs me there.”
“I’ll be close behind you then,” Kathleen said. “I was planning to come over soon.”
Alice’s eyes darted dramatically from wall to wall. Kathleen felt her insides tense up.
“This place is a disaster area,” Alice blurted after a moment. “How do you stand it?”
“I manage,” Kathleen said.
“You let people come in and see it this way?”
“Well, most people wait for an invitation rather than barging in with gently used coffee cake.”
“Excuse me for not being Emily Post. My husband has cancer.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t heard.”
Alice sighed and straightened her posture and smiled, as if to say that she was gathering up the sort of strength one needs to talk to a lunatic.
“Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay,” Kathleen said. “What is it?”
“Well, as you know, your father is being very stubborn about the radiation. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I am convinced that you are the only one who can talk him into it.”
Kathleen smiled. “That’s the same thing I thought about you, before I realized he was right.”
She felt a certain tenderness for Alice then, and put her hand atop her mother’s.
But Alice pulled away. “What makes you say that?”
“His cancer is too far gone, Mom. You know that. All that stuff would just make him miserable.”
“So he thinks,” Alice said. “But there’s always something they can do. They tell him it’s too far gone, but I see him every day and he’s okay. He’s still himself, Kathleen. I know it’s not too late. I am begging you: convince him to do the radiation. If it doesn’t work,