Leah woke in the early hours of that morning. The room was dark and unfamiliar. But she’d left a nightlight on in the bathroom and left that door open a crack, allowing just enough light into the bedroom for her to identify her surroundings and recall where she was and why.
Then the question was what had waked her. She had her processors off, so it wasn’t a sound; and the room was apparently empty, so no hand had roused her. (She’d reminded Dave earlier that evening that if he needed her during the night, he’d have to come to the room and shake her or, better yet, turn on the light, which is how Whitfield usually woke her so as not to frighten her.)
She lay in the dim imposed stillness of her congenital condition and slowly worked her way backward through the seconds leading up to her waking. She somehow knew she’d not been waked by a dream or other internal alarm. Her mind was clear from the residue of a dream and her heartbeat calm and steady, no inner fright or shock. Had there been a peel of thunder or other vibration of the bed sufficient to wake her? But the weather outside was clear and cold, chance of a first frost by morning; and if something had rattled the house, it was gone now. All was completely calm.
She sat up on the edge of the bed and slid her feet into her satin slippers then pulled on her paisley print long satin robe. By then her eyes had fully adjusted to the nightlight’s dim glow; so when she stood and headed for the door to the hall, she didn’t need to turn on a light. The hall and the stairs and the landing at the bottom all had darkness-activated safety lights that Dave had installed years ago when the kids were still living at home and had switched back on when Brooke got sick and the kids and Leah started visiting regularly. So Leah had no trouble navigating the long upstairs hall or making her way down to the main floor and across the foyer to the master bedroom wing. In that hall she passed the study’s open door and glanced in there to see Dave asleep on the pullout sofa-bed, curled into a fetal ball with his arm wrapped around his face as to fend off an assault out of the night.
She continued down the hall to the open door to the master bedroom. She glanced around the doorframe and saw Brooke sitting against the headboard in her wide marriage bed smiling directly at Leah. “I’ve been waiting for you all night,” she said.
Leah stepped into the room. “I didn’t know you were expecting me.”
“I always expect you, Leah. You know that.”
Leah walked up to the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure I do. We’ve been apart a long time.”
“What’s separation to us, Leah? What’s time? You remember when I went off to college?”
Leah nodded. “I thought it was the end of the world.”
“And what happened?”
“We grew closer.”
“What’s separation between us? What’s time?”
“Not much, I guess.”
“Nothing compared with love.”
“No.”
“But there’s something I have to tell you.”
Leah laughed. Whenever Brooke led off with that line, you knew it was going to be good. “What?”
“It’s about your affair with Johnny Appleseed.”
Leah frowned. She didn’t like the word “affair.” It made her feel cheap. But don’t even try to get Brooke to mince her words. “What about it?”
“Have fun long as you need to, but end it before it’s too late.”
“What if it’s already too late?”
“Come on, Leah. Don’t lie to yourself. You’re always wanting to make normal needs into something noble or pure. You’re having an affair! You needed a young attractive stud to adore your body and tell you that you were beautiful in the best way someone can tell you that you are beautiful. And it’s great, Leah! I’m so happy for you!”
Leah waited for her blush to die down then said, “But—.”
“But don’t make it into something it isn’t. It’s not a lifelong romance. It’s not true love. It’s you being selfish and normal for once in your life, and that’s O.K. But sooner or later the old Leah will wake up and wonder how you came to be so self-serving and superficial.”
“I’m not self-serving and superficial.”
“I know. Believe me, I know, better than anyone. You’re a caregiver. That’s why you have to be ready to end your affair quietly and before anyone gets hurt.”
“It’s too late. I’ve betrayed Whitfield. I’ve fallen in love with Billy. I think he loves me.”
Brooke laughed. “My dear little sister—always turning simple desires into noble motives. Billy loves what is between your legs offered without obligation or commitment. The same can be said of your feelings toward him—sex, Leah: touch, the thrill of it; and that’s O.K.! As for Whitfield, he’s devoted to you; he’ll never leave you; but he’s not faithful. So check your guilt at the door. But don’t lose sight of who you are. You—are—a—care—giver!”
“But I won’t have you to care for,” she said dry-eyed, a simple assertion.
“I know.”
“Or Jasper.”
“Jasper will always need you.”
“He’s got a string of girls waiting to care for him. I’m far down on the list.”
Brooke laughed. “Welcome to parenthood!”
“So who?”
“Whom, dear. And you’re supposed to be the English major.”
“Whom?”
“Take care of your husband, Leah. He’s trying to deny his aging, but that can only last so long. He’ll need you sooner than either of you thinks.”
“Jodie?”
Brooke smiled. “I’ve always considered Jodie half yours, sometimes a lot more than half.”
“Why?”
“You gave me permission to start her.”
“I did not!”
Brooke smiled. “Yes, you did. You maybe didn’t think it; but you knew in your heart it was the best way to let me grow up, and you too. It was either that or the two of us live together the rest of our lives.”
“You went to Shawnituck.”
“You went to Davidson. We separated. Jodie’s birth guaranteed the fact.”
Leah stood silent.
“But then we shared the cause of our break, and we still do.”
“So care for her once you’re gone?”
“I would have thought so, but you’ve done too good a job. She’s ready, finally, to stand on her own.”
Leah knew this was true but had denied it to herself, not able to face one more loss amidst so many. “And who cares for me once you’re gone?”
“I’ll never be gone, Leah. When you see Jodie’s eyes, know that I am watching. When you hear Penni’s voice, know that I’m speaking. My daughters love their aunt because I love her, and they will take care of her long as she needs them.”
“And who takes care of you?”
Brooke released a smile that became a brilliant light. “Already done” were the words or sound or feeling that radiated outward with that light, within it. Leah leaned back from the onslaught, instinctively raised her hand to the side of her head, found no processor there—just her silken blond hair, burning her fingertips.