Elizabeth SABOTAGE

“I KNEW HE WAS WRONG for her,” Tilley hissed as I handed her dish after dish to dry. I scrubbed them a tad too hard, the dish gloves Olivia had given me for Christmas—the whimsical ones with the long red fingernails and the huge fake diamond painted on—filling with water when I dipped them too far into the bubbles.

“Well, we all knew it, Tilley. But I never thought he’d do this to her.”

Deep down we’d both known this was exactly how this would end. But we were ladies, so we hadn’t said so.

Even in my anger at Thad, my hurt for my daughter, and my physical discomfort at having wet, soapy water sloshing around inside my gloves, I paused to be grateful. My sister was here tonight. She was herself. She was in this world, with me, where she belonged. I couldn’t count the number of people who said I should put her somewhere where “they could take care of her.” How could they even say such a thing? Who could take care of her better than I could?

I prayed every day—every single day—that she’d pass on one day before I did. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being without me. Who would take care of her then? I didn’t want Amelia and Robby to feel burdened. And, really, after everything she had meant to me, everything she had done for me, it was the least I could do. I prayed for other things, too, but that one was the most persistent.

“Well, I blame Mason,” Tilley said, interrupting my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the plug inside the sink and taking my gloves off, hanging them inside out over the drying rack. I leaned on the counter’s chipped blue-and-white tiles. Make up your corner of the world neat and tidy and it will be enough. I said this to myself every day. Keeping Dogwood together was like squeezing sand as hard as you could inside your palm and wondering why it slipped through your fingers. But I would worry about that tomorrow.

Mason and Amelia had dated very briefly right before his accident. But their coming together had felt like kismet. Olivia and I had dreamed of it our entire lives. Anyone could see they were perfect for each other: the son and daughter of two best friends, the star pitcher and the valedictorian. And then, after it all fell apart for him, he just disappeared. He didn’t call her, didn’t write. I understood retreating. But without a word to my daughter? He had told her they were going to be together, had guaranteed her a future. No one knew better than I did that high school romances faded. But there are right ways to do things. And Olivia just let her son abandon Amelia. It was the biggest fight we’d ever had.

She said I didn’t understand, that she had a different relationship with her children than I did with mine. I should certainly hope so. I would never have let my children behave that way, and especially not at eighteen years old. I took a deep breath to keep myself from getting worked up, picked up another drying towel, and started in on the goblets. People with dishwashers didn’t have these conversations. They were missing out.

“She has sabotaged every relationship she has had since Mason,” I mused.

Tilley nodded. “You’re telling me.”

“But surely she didn’t know about Thad.”

“But we told her,” Tilley said, crossing her arms, all pretense of drying the dishes now over.

I rolled my eyes. “That girl just never listens.”

“Mother! Don’t say that!” Tilley snapped. “I’m standing right here!”

And, just like that, she was gone. My sister, who had been so lucid and clear a heartbeat ago was gone again. Thirty-seven years and it still broke my heart every time. Thirty-seven years of doctors telling me they couldn’t find a cure—or, even, a diagnosis. Thirty-seven years of answers like, Well, it seems akin to delusional disorder, but not quite consistent with that. And IT appears to be triggered by stress. The ones who made me the maddest were the doctors who said she was faking. Who would fake such a thing?

“Not you, darling,” I soothed. “You’re the best girl I know.”

She smiled just a little. “Really?”

I took her hand and said, “Let’s get you to bed. It has been a big night.”

She nodded. “And tomorrow I have a date with Robert.”

Robert. Even though Tilley’s boyfriend had died almost four decades ago, it was easier to agree with her, I had learned from experience. The whole town had, really. My heart swelled with pride and gratitude that Cape Carolina, like our family, had fallen into step with Tilley. If she showed up as herself, fine. If she appeared as Queen Victoria, great. If she discussed gardening tips, they were thrilled. If she wanted to wax poetic about her fictional wedding plans with her deceased boyfriend, they nodded and smiled.

“That’s right, dear. And you will look positively beautiful.”

As I helped her into her nightgown, made sure she brushed her teeth, and tucked her in, Tilley said, “I do believe I’m a little tired.”

I had to admit that, in that moment, I felt a little tired, too. Tired from decades of this emotional roller coaster, tired from worrying about where my daughter’s life would take her now, tired from the spoils and secrets of more than six decades.

I walked silently down the stairs, skipping the squeaky spots that I had become accustomed to stepping around roughly fifty-five years ago. I opened the back door and stepped out on the deck, overlooking the night sky, the silent sound with its still marsh grass, and took a deep breath. This home, this land, this water, and this sky had held me for an entire lifetime. It had guided me through the most difficult moments and the most joyous.

I caught a glimpse of my sad, defeated daughter sitting at the end of our dock, her hair blowing in the breeze. From the time she was a toddler Amelia had simply looked like a little girl who belonged on this beach, whose natural beauty, golden skin and sun-kissed hair melded seamlessly with the scenery around her. I almost went down to her. But then I saw another child I knew nearly as well sitting at the end of his dock right next door. And I realized that it wasn’t only this place that had taken care of us so well; it was the people, too. The ones that were here and the ones that had passed on, who had left this house in body but who, I couldn’t help but feel, were always here with us just the same. All I hoped now was that this place would provide the same healing for Amelia that it always had for me—and that I could hold on to it long enough for her to find her fresh start.