Southbound Ch. 17-18

"We should phone home and see how the kids are doing," Fiona suggested.

"Do you think we might disturb them in the middle of something?" I smirked.

That got me a punch on the arm.

"Hi Tina," Fiona said as the home phone was answered. "How are you?"

Fiona had put the handset on speakerphone.

"We're great, Mom. How are you guys?"

"Terrific. Lots of sun and golf and nice places for dinner."

"Phil's on the deck barbequing some chicken for dinner. He's pretty good at it, Dad."

"He was taught by the master," I bragged.

We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Phil joined us on the call when he brought the chicken in.

"When do you two start at Las Positas?" I asked.

"Monday is orientation day," Phil answered. "Then Tuesday, it's nose to the grindstone."

"Well, having watched you two over the last couple of months, you should be used to that now," I commented.

"Do you have any classes together?" Fiona asked.

"Just a couple," Tina answered. "Psychology and business administration."

"Well, good luck and study hard," I encouraged.

We ended the call shortly afterward.

"I see you've passed on your domestic genes to Phil," she noted.

"Some yes, some no. He's still a work in progress."

"Just like his father was back then."

"Yes ... true ... I definitely had no idea what I wanted out of life. By the time I figured it out, I was married with two children. If it hadn't been for Leo, I don't know how it might have turned out."

"Well, I'm the lucky one that it turned out the way it did. I have a feeling that Phil has a better idea of what he wants and that may give him the incentive to go after it."

"That and a certain young lady he has become infatuated with," I noted.

"Lusted after, I think," she chuckled.

"Runs in the family."

Fiona was staying overnight in Fresno, calling on our raisin producing customers. I wasn't alone at home, of course. Tina and Phil were here, but I had become so accustomed to having my new bride in our bed that any night she was away was noticeable and lonely.

I'm easily able to fall asleep, but often, in the middle of the night, something will wake me and I can have trouble falling back to sleep. It's usually something that's on my mind. Something I can't resolve. More often than not, it's work related. This night, the clock radio showed it was 3:17 am, and I groaned, wondering how long it would take me to get back to sleep. So what woke me?

It was something lodged in the back of my mind that wouldn't quite reveal itself. It was there, just out of reach of my consciousness. I lay back, trying to remember what I had been dreaming about. It was futile, I knew. I could seldom remember any dream, no matter how vivid. I lay back on the pillow and waited for sleep to return. And then ... in a flash of memory ... I caught it.

She knew! She knew! Carla knew she was ill before we divorced. She knew! I sat up abruptly. The whole divorce thing was a smokescreen to hide her condition. I remembered looking up brain cancer on the Internet when I first heard of her illness. Surgical intervention was high risk, with a strong possibility of being disabled, or worse. She chose not to elect surgery.

I lay back on the pillow and felt the tears come. She wouldn't allow us to grieve and hover over her while the disease took its course. She couldn't face the idea of being condemned to being in a vegetative state. She couldn't, or wouldn't, let us see her deteriorate. She had to push us away. The divorce was a ruse to make it easier on me ... not for her emancipation. Oh, Carla, what have you done?

That calm, reasoned Carla that wanted to talk to me before I married Fiona was her last goodbye. She knew then that her time was limited. She knew and kept if from everyone who loved her: Ruth, her parents, Neal, Phil, even me. By the time we discovered the truth, it was too late. What was the point of talking to the doctors to find out when they discovered the tumour? The consequence was no longer in doubt.

There would be no going back to sleep that night. I was certain I was right. She was willing to sacrifice what remained of her life to make it easier on us. I was torn between regret and anger. Anger that we didn't have the opportunity to find a way to stop, or even delay the disease. Perhaps it would have been futile. Perhaps it wouldn't have made her life better, but at least we could look at all the possibilities ... together ... as a family. She took that away from all of us.

I rose and put on a dressing gown and slippers and walked quietly to the kitchen. I turned on the coffee maker, our new Keurig machine, and slipped a pod in place, needing a clear head to think. What good would it do to share this with anyone? Did anyone else suspect? Carla was gone and we had grieved and for the most part, put our life with her in the past.

Phil still missed his mother, but he was moving on as well. Her parents were still shocked, but Ruth had paid special attention to them and I know that was appreciated. But what about me? How did I feel? I had hardly waited for the ink to dry on the divorce papers before I remarried. What did that say about me?

Did I dare tell Fiona of my suspicions? Why? What good would it do? They were just that ... suspicions. I suppose I could interview her doctors and find out the truth, but did I really want to? How would I feel if I knew for a certainty that she did know some time before we divorced that she was ill? The truth might be more destructive than living in ignorance.

There was one more question to answer. What made me think this was what Carla had planned? Was it the accumulated knowledge that comes from living with someone for over twenty-three years? Were we that much in tune that I could think like her? Despite the lack of common interests, we did know each other very, very well.

I put my head down in my arms on the kitchen table and tried to sort out all the questions. They must have faded at some point because the next thing I knew, Phil had his hand on my shoulder and was waking me.

"Dad ... Dad ... are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh ... yeah ... Phil ... I'm okay. I couldn't sleep. Something on my mind," I mumbled.

I looked at the coffee cup in front of me, still half full. I stared at it for a few moments before making a decision. I would do what had to be done. I would keep my beliefs to myself. I was not going to share them with anyone. No good would come from it. No one would be better for knowing. It wouldn't make any of us feel better ... more likely worse. No ... this was one thing I would not share with anyone.

Fiona would be home later that afternoon, and I decided to call the office and take a day off. Doubtful I would be of much use anyway. Perhaps a walk would help convince me I was making the right choice. I headed back to our bedroom to shower and change into some stay-at-home clothes. Yes ... a day to myself might make me feel better about my decision.

I was right about the day off and the walk. I felt better and surer of myself. Fiona would be home soon and all would be well in the Andrews home. I had a life that I couldn't have imagined not so long ago. People believed in me and counted on me. I was happier than I had been in years. I was more confident than I had been in years. Fiona gave me unconditional love. Carla was right, though. I needed to broaden my circle beyond work. Thank you, Carla. Thank you for your sacrifice. Your secret is safe.

END