It was after seven and I bolted up the stairs to our apartment. Anya, our Russian sitter had left early due to a migraine, leaving our daughter with my visiting mother-in-law, Mary. Mary came up from Florida a couple of times a year on tickets we purchased for her. She never said thank you, preferring to think we had an obligation to pay her way. Every now and then she reminded us, “That’s my granddaughter, ya know.” She had time but no money. She assumed we had money but no time. Almost right.
Despite my well paying but horribly stressful job with GE Capital, money was tight. With medical school consuming at least 80 hours of Liz’s time a week and my repeated pummeling from my boss at GE requiring 50 hours on a light week we spent $800 to $1,000 per week on Anya. Though a financial drain, Anya was a wonder with our daughter, Gee. They played, strolled and jabbered all day as Liz and I slogged away at work or school. There was precedence for Anya’s migraine as they visited her every couple of months. Nonetheless, I am certain today’s head pounding was caused by Mary’s tottering and constant small talk.
Mary is a benevolent being. However, she is an acquired taste, yesterday letting me know, “Cats are people too, ya know? Michael Jackson has a cat.” To which I gravely responded, “Mary I think you’re a couple of beers short of a six pack.”
“That’s OK, honey. I don’t like beer. Cat’s drink beer if it’s in a saucer, ya know.” Her broad smile followed.
I’ll back up a bit. I loved – and still do love – Mary. As I recently kidded her, “Mary, no matter what sort of crazy stuff comes out of that head of yours I love you. My parents are gone, so I have to love you. You’re the nearest thing I have to a mom. And, besides, you gave me Liz!” She responded by throwing her arms wide open and pulling me into a hug.
So, after climbing the front steps, I jerked around with the key and shoved the front door open with my shoulder. Home. Little Gee was crawling around in the living room, playing with one of the scores of educational toys we had slipped into her life. Recognize shapes, see patterns, become familiar with cause and effect; all meant to leverage play time and into a learning experience. No comment.
“Hi, Gee,” I waived. She turned, beamed and waved back, looking up at me.
Alright, I have shit to do tonight. Tomorrow I have a conference call with my boss. As the youngest, worst performing, managing director in our consulting group, I regularly take a beating from him regarding margins, pipelines and forecasts.
The mail was deposited on the dining room table and I scanned through today’s pile, grabbing the flotsam and walking it into the kitchen for a toss into the recycle bin. Done with that, I went to check messages on the answering machine. My boss often called at home to share his pre-conference call concerns. His concerns ranged from detailed questions about project margins and development risks to more general requests, the latter of which usually followed a month in which I missed forecast. “Kinkade, call me. Jesus Christ, Kinkade, what the heck are you thinking up there? I’m concerned your incompetence may be a bad reflection on me. I’m in Wisconsin. I’ll be up ‘till 11 central. Call me.” Click.
As I made my way to the answering machine Mary waddled after me. She didn’t waddle because she was overweight. In fact, she was rather fit for her age. She waddled because she had shattered both legs in a car crash a few years ago. She is a horrible driver. When she visits she knows not to use our car as we fear calamity. In her most recent automotive calamity, she crossed a yellow line during a snow storm, striking a plow head on. Her legs pierced the car floor, twisting against the pavement. Trapped in the cold for hours, firefighters cut her from the wreckage. When later told she may never walk, she shrugged, “I’ll get past this, ya know.” She was up and about in six months.
Mary knew what it was like to get past ‘this’. She’d had a hard life. As a child she lost her mom and dad and, with no parents, there was no place for Mary on her Caribbean island. Local family turned their backs on the orphan and she was shuttled off to an aunt’s home on a neighboring island for eight years. Her childhood did not get any better.
The point of this story is not to document Mary’s many challenges. That is a story in and of itself. Suffice it to say Mary knows how to stand as tall as her 5’ frame will allow.
As I tossed junk mail into the bin, Mary grabbed my arm. I turned towards her and she held my gaze. In her slight Caribbean accent she shared a thought, “Ya know, Beasley, kids are smarter than you think. Do ya know what I mean by that?”
“Yea, sure, Mary, I know. Kids are definitely smart. Gee’s smart as a whip.
“No, silly, they’re smarter than that, ya know. That’s what I mean. They know things. They know things you don’t think they know.”
Confused, I stopped to pay attention, “Like what? What do you mean, Mary? What do they know?
Looking up at me, she rocked back and worth, reminding me of a 1970s Weebles toy. As the song, went, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.”
She, stepped closer and took my other hand, “Like, if you come into a room, Beasley, and you go to the mail, then ya go to the answering machine and then ya go the kitchen and then ya go to your child, well, she knows she’s the fourth most important thing in the house. They know that ya know, ’cause they see it. They may not know the words but they can tell. They’re smart enough to know that much, I tell ya. Smart enough to know that they’re right behind the mail, the phone and the kitchen. Now, what do ya think about that, there, Mister?”
I don’t know how long I was silent. I broke her gaze. She continued to stare at me as I looked down at the floor. Her feet pointed in weird directions. No wonder she wobbled. I squeezed her hand, thanking her as she pulled me into a hug.
I thought of Mary yesterday, as I came home from work. My two children are on the verge of becoming adults; Gee is 15 and DJ 11. Entering the front door, I kicked off my boots, dropped my bag and yelled for them, finding Gee first, then DJ.
“Hey, Wonderful Gee, what’s up? How was school?” Sitting at the computer she gave me a teenage shrug. I reached down and hugged her, “I love you, Gee.” She hugged me back, “I know dad, I know. I’m just working on my history project. DJ’s in the living room.”
Taking my queue to give Gee some teenage space, I found DJ with the dog, “Hey, buddy, how was your day?” He launched into a monologue about how hard it is to shovel snow off our backyard rink. I nodded as we settled into a conversation about hockey.
In the kitchen the answering machine blinked and the mail sat on the counter, patiently waiting their turn.
