Page 27 of Delayed Intention

Telling A Sister Some Truths

Sitting behind the wheel of Nona’s giant sedan invariably leaves me feeling like a child pretending to be old enough to drive.

I have to sit on a throw pillow to see properly over the hood of her car.

I’m not a small woman, by any standard. Although I am shorter than most in my family.

Nona sent me to pick up Roselyn, David, and Emunah from the airport, and I’m so excited to see them.

Idling in the cell lot, I’m waiting to hear when they have collected their bags.

This week that I’ve spent in Nebraska has been so pleasant.

It has been nearly four months since my dramatic exit from Sunday night dating and my previous routine with my mother.

After texting that I wanted to check in and say hello and hear how she is, we finally spoke.

Since then, I have talked to her over the phone a few times.

These conversations have been brief, however, since I’ve set clear boundaries on topics I’m comfortable discussing with her.

Not to mention, I’d said I didn’t want to rehash everything that happened in September.

Our last conversation lasted about a minute and a half.

I wish I could say our relationship is improved, but it only feels like I’ve put an ice pack on a bullet wound.

While it was reassuring to hear her voice, it was tense—more than anything.

Yesterday, Nona insisted on taking me shopping, bought me three new dresses, had her hairdresser give me some treatment to keep my curls smooth, and took me to get my nails done.

What I’ve loved the most, though, is just being around her energy.

She is so chill and calm—she knows how to help me settle down without making me feel bad for getting worked up.

She hasn’t asked me anymore about Dr. Kellerman.

Most importantly, she can tell when my blood sugar is about to run low or when I am done being around people.

She gets me and sees me more clearly than I can see myself.

I feel that while I try to make myself better, she meets me where I am and helps me be the best version of myself.

I had a session with Monica today before I drove to the airport and raised the possibility of relocating to Nebraska.

The energy in Lincoln is enough of a big city vibe—with the University and everything—but without all the angst I feel at home.

It’s just calmer. People are quieter and kinder.

It’s less rushed and certainly less self-important than D.C. can be.

When I was young, more than anything, I wanted to move out here and start my life over.

Now, it’s occurred to me that I can do that.

I would miss Abbie, Roselyn, and especially Emunah.

But I don’t like my job. I mean, I love being a PA.

But hospital and emergency medicine, especially now that we have to do all this observation management—I could walk away from that without any regrets.

As a PA, I can go into anything. I wouldn’t want to treat kids, but other than that, I can shift gears and start over.

My thoughts are interrupted by a notification on my phone.

Roselyn

hey! We got the bags—heading out to the curb now

Me

kk, pulling up in a big blue sedan

Getting the bags and everyone into the car without having a panic attack is a whole thing. David kept soothing my nerves by reassuring me that everyone else was in the same boat. Finally, after less than a few minutes, which felt like a thousand hours, we were off.

“How was the flight?” I asked, trying to calm myself more than anything.

Roselyn answered, “A bit rocky at the end, but overall, it was fine. How is being at Nona’s?” She hasn’t been here in years, just like I hadn’t been before this fall.

“It’s amazing. She’s spoiling me. And she’s eager to meet Emunah.” Could Roselyn be nervous? I know it will be fine, so I decided not to ask her in front of her daughter; it wouldn’t help and could set Em’s anxiety off.

On the way to the house, we kept the conversation light.

Just as we’re pulling into the driveway, the snow starts to fall.

Emunah jumps out of the car excitedly to see the snow, while I pull into the big garage.

Right in front of where I parked the car, there is a giant dollhouse that belonged to my mother and her sisters when they were children.

I remember playing with it when I was a girl, and how magical it seemed.

“Is that Nona Rose’s doll house?” Emunah asked, her eyes wide.

“It sure is,” I smiled down at her while Ros and David unloaded the car. “Do you want me to ask Nona Rose if we can bring it inside?”

She turned to me, any previous nerves having left her face, now lit up with anticipation. “Yes, please! Eema, do you see this dollhouse?”

“I do. Help me bring your bag inside so we can find your room.” Ros silently mouths a ‘thank you’ to me over her daughter’s head.

David and Emunah moved inside ahead of us while Ros turned back toward me.

“The plane ride was rough. She was so anxious she started vomiting.” Then, my sister, who always sees the bright side of everything, burst into tears.

“Hey, Roselyn, she seems better already. It’s okay.

Right now, she’s happy to be here.” I tentatively stepped forward and put my arms around her.

I’ve never enjoyed hugs, but Roselyn and I are closer than ever, and I can feel her heart breaking for her daughter.

Despite myself, I keep my arms around her.

It is stiff and probably the worst hug she’s ever had, but I do it.

She sniffled onto my shoulder and lifted her arms around my waist, hugging me back briefly.

“You hugged me.” Stepping back, she’s smiling at me through her tears.

“Don’t get used to it.” I step further away, grinning. “She’s gonna be okay, you know. You’re a great mother. And she’s already getting the help she needs. I mean, look at how well I’m doing, and I’ve only been in therapy for the last few months.”

Roselyn looks confused. “You started therapy in college.”

“About that… I wasn’t entirely truthful with my therapist until last summer.” I take a beat. “Not now, but there are some things I should probably tell you. About me. Maybe we can go for a walk later. Let’s get you all settled.”

We head inside with the rest of their luggage when Roselyn turns to me. “I’m nervous. I mean, I’ve talked to Rose a few times on the phone before we came, but how is it?”

“I meant what I said before. Let me put it this way. I have felt so at peace here that I’m thinking of moving in.”

We stop outside their guest room.

“You guys are in here. I put Emunah in with me if she’s up for that.”

“Are you kidding? She’ll love that.”

“There’s another room, if you remember, but I didn’t think she’d want to stay by herself.”

“You’re right about that. Do you mean it, Lils? You’re considering moving here?” She hasn’t called me Lils in more than twenty years.

I set their bags down on the bed.

“I am—I would miss the hell out of you, but I think this may be the best thing for me. I’m so calm here with Rose. And how much time does she even have left? I think I’d regret it so much if I didn’t do it.” I leave off what I’m thinking—that our mother is responsible for the time we’ve missed.

“There you are, Roselyn!” Nona is in the doorway, beaming at us. “I fixed us all a nice supper and was just getting to know your lovely husband and charming daughter. Come and join us.”

Roselyn dropped her bags and moved over to Nona in a few quick strides. Throwing her arms around our grandmother, she is sniffling again. “It’s so good to be here, Nona. I’m so happy to see you again.”

“It’s wonderful to have you here, dear. Welcome back.”

Deciding to give them privacy, I moved past them into the hall and headed toward the dining room to finish setting up for supper.

When our grandmother and Roselyn join us at the dining room table, my sister is red-eyed but smiling.

My heart fills to burst at the sight of the two of them reunited in person.

David and Emunah file in behind them and find their seats around the big table.

Nona assures David she keeps a kosher home, and for some reason, this consideration on her part is what makes my own eyes misty.

So many people I love in one place, together.

Nona insisted on cooking everything herself, and we enjoyed roasted chicken, spicy noodle rice, and roasted vegetables.

Nona had made chicken nuggets and set aside plain rice for Emunah as I’d suggested.

I continued to keep quiet and observe as they caught up with each other, in awe of how easy-going David was, considering he hadn’t seen my grandmother in years.

Emunah was nervous intermittently but also seemed to settle in as the meal progressed.

After dinner, I helped clean up while David and Emunah played with the dollhouse.

Roselyn walked into the kitchen just as I was finishing up and drying my hands.

She smiled at me. “Do you want to go for that walk?”

“Sure, let me grab my hat and coat.”

In the front hall, we put on our snow boots and head out.

“Okay, just to caution you,” I know there is no way this will be easy, but I need to prepare her with some kind of trigger warning. “This is going to be unpleasant.”

“Okay. Whatever you need to tell me, I’m here for you, Lily.”

“Thank you, Ros.” And I mean it. I was lonely for so long. I sigh deeply. “So, do you remember back when I was about fifteen and I worked for Mom’s friend, Dr. Kellerman?”

“I do.” Roselyn swallows audibly as if she knows where this might be going. “He was the one who committed suicide… accused of… Oh my God. What are you telling me?” She stopped walking. Unable to look her in the eye, I kept going, and she moved to catch up.

“The truth, I’m afraid.” My palms start to itch, and I do my best to ignore them.

As we continue walking through a weighted silence, Roselyn clears her throat. “How bad was it?”

I glance at her briefly and then look ahead.

“The worst. He framed it as a means to help me get over my aversion to being touched by people.”

“My God,” she muttered under her breath.

“Look, if you don’t mind, I’m going to just spit it all out because I can barely speak about this with my therapist, let alone you, and at some point, I may just stop because I can’t talk about it.” I start walking again.

Roselyn keeps pace with me.

“Okay, I understand. Whatever you need.” Her voice sounds far away.

“Until recently, I hadn’t told anyone since it happened in 2005, and it’s still really difficult for me to discuss details.”

“Listen,” Roselyn stops me with a hand on my arm and pulls it away when she sees me flinch.

“Sorry. I just want to say—you tell me what you’re comfortable with and nothing you aren’t.

It’s just, what did you mean you didn’t tell anyone since 2005?

Did you tell someone then, and they didn’t help you? Who was it, Lily?”

Despite her calm tone, I can see that Roselyn looks murderous.

“Did I say that?”

“Lily.”

“Does it matter now? After all this time?” I am rubbing my palms against the back pockets of my jeans furiously without relief from the itching.

Roselyn’s face tells me that we both know the answer to that question, but she is kind enough not to say anything. We start walking again, and I exhale when she stops short.

Roselyn narrows her eyes at me, with kindness, but shrewd enough for me to know the next word that will come out of her mouth.

“Mom.”

I looked down at my hands, red from the cold, and simply nodded once. I can feel her eyes on me.

“It’s times like this I wish I could hug you,” her voice choked out.

I raise my head and offer a poor excuse for a smile. “Thank you, but please don’t.”

With that, we walked on together and I told her what I could: what had happened and how our mother didn’t believe me and how I continued to work there.

“And when he died?”

“She said nothing,” a humorless laugh escapes my lips. “You’ve met her, right? She’s never wrong, so what could she say?”

My sister cannot contain herself anymore, and I can see what she needs. “Come on then. I can tolerate one more hug. Let’s get it over with.”

She rests her head on my shoulder without putting her arms around me, and it’s not terrible.

“I love you, Lily. Do you know that?”

“I do.” I cough. “Okay, that’s enough of that, let’s get back before we freeze to death out here.”

The snow has begun to fall in earnest, softly, erasing the trace of our footprints as we make our way back to our grandmother’s house. Almost like a fresh start, I think.