The only thing within reach was her clothing and the pizza, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to sacrifice her Tommy Hilfiger sandals at his expense. So she flung the take-out box as best she could. The cardboard did a lackadaisical flap in the air with just enough volition to slingshot the pizza slice facedown onto his shoes. Reba couldn’t have been more gratified.
Seething, she stood tall. She couldn’t take back whatever had happened between them, but she could be responsible for this moment. With every ounce of composure she could muster, she marched toward the door.
“Wa-wait a second!” He lifted both palms in front of her without touching. “Nothing happened, Reba. You totally passed out before …” He smirked.
She lifted her chin. “You are a royal dickhead.”
He flipped his coiffure. “Baby, if you’re going to call anybody names, you better start with Señorita Wine-O.”
It was meant to be a joke. Reba didn’t think it funny. She punched him square in the gut. He lurched forward.
“You”—she pointed to the photograph across the room—“should be ashamed! Tell me. Is that your wife? Are those your children?”
“It’s complicated,” he said as he coughed, still at a ninety-degree angle.
“It’s what? Compli—” She dropped her clothes to the floor and pummeled his ribs with both hands. “Complicated my ass! Yes or no!”
“We’re divorcing,” he said, then grabbed her wrists and held them at bay. “That’s why I moved here.”
“I may be a lousy drunk, a shitty girlfriend, a neglectful sister, and a second-rate daughter,” she raged and wrenched free. “Hell, I might even be a rotten neighbor, but at least I know exactly who I am and who I’m not! I am Reba Adams, damn it!” The words burned her lips. “And I shouldn’t be here.” Her eyes brimmed. “You—you are”—she pointed back at the photo again—“not the kind of man I deserve.”
Jase frowned.
“I had better!” She squatted down and snatched her fallen pants and shoes, sniffling back emotions she hadn’t meant to spill. Jerry-G stood with paws on the glass, ears erect. “Shrimp deserves better, too! You can’t keep him locked out because it makes your life easier. It’s cruel!”
She stomped to the sliding door and opened it. Like a wound top, Jerry-G leaped inside, bounding over the living room carpet and skittering down the wooden hallway.
“Hey, that’s my dog!”
“Then start acting like it!”
She left Jase chasing Jerry-G and slammed her apartment door behind her. Through the wall came strings of profanities and furniture thuds. Reba put on a James Taylor CD and the shower and sang her heart out when “Fire and Rain” played.
Feeling more herself afterward, she latched Riki’s ring back around her neck and slipped into a faded pair of jeans and a worn Richmond Flying Squirrels jersey. She mopped the kitchen, straightened the apartment, and called the superintendent for a maintenance appointment. She felt better. Inside, everything was neat and orderly. Outside on the balcony sat the sour can of tuna and a stale biscuit. She left them where they were.
“The flies can have ’em,” she whispered, tossing back two Aleve and nestling into her couch with a glass of cucumber water and Gone with the Wind on TV.
Just after Scarlett threw the vase at Rhett, Reba’s cell phone jangled in her purse. She dug through change and peppermint stars, lipsticks and pens, old business cards and crumbled rolls of antacids until she felt the familiar rectangle, buzzing and singing. One missed call from Jane Meriwether. She muted the television and redialed.
On the third ring, Jane answered. “Reba?”
Reba hadn’t been able to eat all day, and her head felt light at the familiar sound of Jane’s voice. She lay back on the couch.
“Oh, Jane, I’m so glad you called.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to count up days and weeks since they’d last spoken. The numbers jumbled, so she gave up. “I’ve missed you—I’ve missed all of you so much.”
“Mom’s in a coma.”
Everything stopped, as though the words carried bolts of electricity.
“She’s in the hospital,” Jane continued. “I wanted to take her in last Friday when her hands started shaking, but she refused to go until after Cinco de Mayo. She wanted to surprise Sergio with conchas. Stubborn woman.”
Reba listened to Jane breathe over the line and realized she wasn’t.
“Then this morning, she was rolling dough and dropped. Just like that. When I went to help her up, she was a rag doll, babbling in German. Scared me so bad I closed the bakery on the spot and drove her over to Thomason’s ER. The doctor says she had a stroke.”
Reba turned onto her side and buried her face in the cushions.
“I should’ve taken her when I saw her hands. I should’ve made her go. I should’ve done more,” lamented Jane.
“It’s not your fault,” Reba mumbled, then righted herself on the couch. “You can’t force a person to do what you want—even if you think it’s for their best.” Her breath caught. “You are a good daughter. You love her. That’s what counts.”
Reba was speaking to Jane and herself.
“Sergio and Riki are with me,” said Jane. “The doctor doesn’t think Mom’ll …”
Reba brought her knees to her chest, wishing she were there and not here, wishing she’d never left in the first place. She couldn’t put the phone down after Jane hung up. So she scrolled through numbers until she came to her momma’s, then she dialed.
“Hello?” came her momma’s southern lilt.
How Reba had missed her despite everything. She sighed long into the receiver. She had so much to say but couldn’t seem to form the words.
“Reba, honey, is that you?”
Reba nodded and hugged the phone close, love and hope stretched tight across the miles.
—–Original Message—–
From: reba.adams@hotmail.com
Sent: May 6, 2008 11:50 P.M.
To: deedee.adams@gmail.com
Subject: Leaving for El Paso
Deedee,
Elsie had a stroke. She’s in a coma, and the doctors don’t think she’s going to make it out. I wish I weren’t so far from home. Riki’s with Jane now, and I can’t help but love him even more for never ceasing to be there—even when I didn’t ask or expect him to, even when I think he isn’t, he is. You were right when you said you couldn’t force someone to see your truth. I assumed you were talking about Daddy, but I was the one who needed to open her eyes. I’ve made so many mistakes. I should never have left. I called Momma. She told me to book myself on the first flight back to El Paso.
I leave in six hours, but I can’t sleep. My bags are packed and looking around my apartment, I could leave for good and not miss a thing. I thought I was finally reaching my dream in San Francisco, but that was my head lying to my heart. I know where I’m supposed to be—whom I’m supposed to be with. Momma says love can forgive all things. I think I believe her, or at least I want to, and that’s a start.
I know you’re a praying person, D, so could you say one for Elsie? One for me too.
Love, Reba
Chapter Forty-three
AMERICAN ARMED FORCES R&R CENTER
19 GERNACKERSTRASSE
GARMISCH, GERMANY
AUGUST 13, 1945
It was her first night back on shift, and though she felt physically recovered, she declined Robby’s offer to help him bake Moravian Lovefeast Buns. She wasn’t in the mood. Besides, she’d never been completely taken with his recipes—too rich to have routinely. So she claimed she was still under doctor’s orders to rest, which was partly true.