“Why not?” The idea felt like a beacon in my brain, clear and bright, shining through the fog of depression and lassitude and indecision that had immobilized me since my divorce. My pulse rate kicked up.
“Hope, it would take months,” Ralph said gently.
“I’ve got the time.” The light in my brain gained additional wattage. Heat flowed through my veins.
Eddie’s arm tightened into a squeeze. “I know you want to help, but you haven’t thought this through, honey.”
What he really meant was,Here Hope goes again, making another rash decision.It hurts to admit it, but I have a bit of a track record of acting first and thinking second.
There was that time on my college study abroad program when I didn’t make the plane home from Athens because I’d decided to run by the Acropolis one last time, and the professor in charge called Mom, who insisted he file a missing person report—but something got lost in translation and the police thought I was a fugitive wanted by American authorities, and I ended up spending two terrifying nights in jail.
And the time I lost the rarer-than-hen’s-teeth entry-level job at the Art Institute of Chicago that my mother had pulled all kinds of strings to get me, because I changed around an exhibit to showcase Renoir’s little-knownVase of Flowersinstead of his more famousTwo Sisters, which, in my opinion, is overexposed.
And, of course, there was my disastrous decision to marry Kurt four months after my mother’s death.
My mother used to say I am overly optimistic and too impulsive, even on my ADHD meds, but I didn’t believe her. Her death and my rebound-from-grief marriage had changed all that. I no longer had boundless faith in the goodness of the universe, the intentions of others, or my own abilities.
“You’d have to put your whole life on hold,” Eddie said gently.
“What life?” I turned my hands palm up. “I don’t really have one.”
Ralph patted my back. “All the more reason you need to stay in Chicago and build one.”
“Maybe this is just the way to do that.” Conviction swelled in me like a religious experience, infusing me with a sense of energy and purpose that had been lacking for months. Maybe years. “A few months in Wedding Tree would give me a chance to figure out my options and decide what I want to do next.”
“A few months in Wedding Tree will make anything look like a better option,” Ralph said.
“And maybe that’s exactly what I need.”
Ralph and Eddie exchanged dubious looks. But then, they didn’t know what my life was really like—how isolated and shut off and rudderless I’d become. You couldn’t even say my life was adrift, because drifting implied movement. My life was stuck on a sandbar and completely fogged in.
“Look—I’m working as a temp. My sublet is up in two months, and I don’t have a clue where I’m going to move. My friends are all married and busy with their families or else they’ve moved away, and jobs in the art world are harder than ever to come by in this economy.” I was voicing things I hadn’t even allowed myself to think. Depression had kept me catatonic, but apparently I’d subconsciously been fretting about my future, because relief flooded through me as I talked. The prospect of getting out of Chicago and helping Gran sort through her belongings gave me a sense of direction, of meaning, of usefulness. “This is perfect timing. Helping Gran would help me.”
Eddie sighed. “Hope, honey, do you remember what Mom’s house looks like?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you looked in her attic and storage shed and garage and closets?”
“It’s been a few years.” Maybe even a decade. Come to think of it, I might have been twelve the last time I was in the attic.
“She’s only continued to add things to them. Every square inch is crammed and bulging.”
“Well, it has to be tackled by someone. Might as well be me.”
“You can’t simultaneously sort out the house and take care of Mom. We don’t even know what level of care she’ll need.”
Ralph thoughtfully rubbed the auburn stubble on his jaw. “We can hire home health care workers.”
Eddie and Ralph exchanged another long look, the kind of lookthat’s a whole conversation. I felt a burst of longing; I’d never been that closely attuned to anyone. Certainly not to my husband, not even in the early days, back when I’d thought things were good.
Eddie ran a hand down his face. “Hope, honey—you’re tired. This is a huge commitment, and it doesn’t need to be decided right now. Go to the house, take a good look around, and sleep on it.” He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to me.
“You need sleep, too,” I said, noticing the shadows under his eyes. “Why don’t we take turns staying here with Gran tonight?”
“Nah. I’ll be fine. I can sleep like a log anywhere.”
“That’s true,” Ralph said, kneading the back of Eddie’s neck. “He fell asleep at a Warriors game last week and nearly slid off the seat.”
