The first day of school dawned clear and sunny. The three adults in the brick colonial on Saddle Ridge Road were up well before, their young student. KayKay busied herself in the kitchen, packing the plastic Curious George lunchbox with pretzels and a juice box for snack time. Eliza showered, dressed quickly and searched around for the camera to record Janie’s kindergarten debut. Poppie went out to get bagels, announcing when he returned that the newly tuned-up car was running like a top.
Eliza went in to wake Janie. Leaning down, she kissed her daughter’s soft brow. The big blue eyes opened slowly and looked up sleepily.
‘Time to get up, sweetheart. We have to get ready for school.”
Janie said nothing, but she bolted upright, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck and holding on tight.
“What’s wrong, angel?”
“I’m scared, Mommy.”
“It’s natural to be a little worried, Janie,” Eliza said softly, stroking Janie’s sweet-smelling hair. “Starting something new is exciting, but it can also be a little scary. But I know you are going to like school. The teacher is going to be very nice and you already have a friend. James will be there with you.”
“How do you know the teacher is nice?”
“Because that’s what kindergarten teachers are supposed to be. That’s their job. And if they don’t do their jobs, they get fired,” she said, trying to reassure her child.
Janie pulled back and looked with wide eyes at her mother. “They get burned up?”
“No, sweetheart,” Eliza tried not to laugh. “That’s just an expression. To ‘get fired’ means that the boss tells you that you can’t work there anymore. Come on now, get up. KayKay has breakfast all ready.”
But Janie barely touched her scrambled eggs and took only a bite or two of her buttered bagel as she sat at the kitchen table. Her grandmother sliced up another bagel and stashed it into the lunchbox, too, as Eliza took Janie upstairs again to dress. Fifteen minutes later, face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed and wearing a pressed denim jumper and her new school shoes, Janie stood patiently on the front stoop to have her picture taken, alone, then with her mother, then with her grandparents.
As she squinted into the viewfinder, Eliza thought of John and wished he were here to see their child go off to school, wished he were able to put his arm around Janie and pose with her on her big day. How much he would have loved this child! He had been so terribly cheated by never knowing her. And Janie, the child who had her father’s smile, lived on, without ever experiencing the love her daddy would have showered on her.
It had been over five years now since John’s death and Eliza was proud that she had survived losing him, bearing their baby without him, raising their daughter by herself. The tearing anguish had ever so slowly subsided over the years, but it was at times like this, life-event moments that cried out to be shared, that the pain resurfaced.
She had gradually allowed herself to believe in love again with Mack, thought perhaps they would have a life together. Maybe it wasn’t over yet, but something was definitely wrong.
“Mommy?”
Janie’s worried face responded to the expression on her mother’s.
Snap out of it!
“Come on, kiddo.” Eliza smiled brightly. “We’ve got to get you to school and Mommy’s got to get to work.”
On the drive into the city, Eliza called Rhode Island.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Hello, dear. How’s everything?”
“I just dropped Janie off for her first day of school.”
“How is she?”
“Scared, but brave.”
“That’s my girl. I can’t believe she’s starting school already. It seems like she was just born.”
“I know.”
“Everything coming along with the house?”
“We’re getting settled. It’ll take awhile to get things the way I want them, though.”
“How’s work?”
“Okay.” Eliza considered mentioning the calls and letters but decided not to tell her mother about them. She knew her mother’s solution would be for her to quit the job. Anytime Eliza was forced to work late hours or cover potentially dangerous stories, her mother always lectured her and suggested that she consider getting out of the business. Yet she thoroughly enjoyed it when her friends talked about seeing her daughter on TV. If her mother knew Eliza was being threatened, she would be apoplectic.
“Have you heard from Mack? How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing fine, Mom. He’s doing fine,” she lied.
“I liked it when you came up with him this summer, Eliza. He’s such a nice boy.”
“Mom, he’s not a boy. He’s a man.” Eliza wanted to get off the phone now. “I’ll send the pictures I took of Janie this morning as soon as I get them developed.”
“Is Dad there?”
“No, he’s out golfing. He loves those clubs you gave him.”
“Good. Tell him I said hello.”
“I will, honey.”
“ ’Bye, Mom.”
Eliza realized she had called looking for a little maternal comfort. She never learned. It was better to comfort yourself.
Her relationship with her parents was complicated and Eliza had spent many hours trying to unravel it in therapy with Dr. Karas. The bottom line: her parents had done the best they could as they raised her while, at the same time, they were struggling with their own problems. In fact, Eliza realized that, in some ways, she had benefited from the chaos of her early years. Her mother’s bouts of mental illness and her father’s anger and frustration over the situation had spurred Eliza to do well in school and, generally, to try and give them nothing more to worry about, a pattern that continued to this day.
She had become an achiever. An achiever who now sat in the back of her chauffeured car on the way to her powerful job. An achiever whose face was known to millions.