The Milestone Tapes (27 page)

“Let me know if you need anything honey. I’ll be in and out all day.” Ginny squeezed Mia’s shoulder lightly.

“Thanks,” Mia slipped out of the room. The box in her hands felt heavy with possibility.

Mia closed the door behind herself quietly.

“Gabe, be reasonable, you’re gonna have to tell her sometime. You can’t keep carrying on like this forever. It’s not right and it’s not fair!” Ginny placed her knotty hands on her hips and waited. This was their conversation, usually right on the heels of Gabe dismissing Mia’s worry.

“I know,” Gabe sighed “but there is never a right time, it’s not an easy thing. She thinks I’ve been a monk all these years, and suddenly I’m just supposed to spring this on her? How is that even fair to her?”

“That child knows you are no monk. But, she does know that her daddy is gone an awful lot, and I’m sure, given a choice in the matter, she’d rather get to know this woman you’re runnin’ around with and have you here more often than whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

Gabe sighed heavily, letting Ginny continue.

“Listen, Mia is sixteen, not six and not ten. She wouldn’t want you to waste your life alone, she worries about you,” Ginny concluded.

“I know, it’s just never the right time ... ” Gabe began and trailed off, Ginny raising her hand to stop him.

“This isn’t what Jenna would’ve wanted either.”

And there it was, the fact Gabe couldn’t bring himself to admit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Mia to get to know Kris. Kris was an outstanding woman: smart, loving, caring, funny. It was that Gabe didn’t want Kris in this part of his life. Gabe wanted Kris, so bad it buckled his knees, but that didn’t change anything, he’d never wanted a woman beyond Jenna to share this with him. This home was Jenna’s home. That child was Jenna’s child. How could he possibly open all of that up to another? He couldn’t, he wasn’t ready.

“So, what do you suggest I do then?” Gabe prodded. Ginny seemed to have most of the answers for life’s riddles; she was an anchor.

“I suggest you bring your lady friend over for supper or take Mia to Seattle, put both of those woman together and let them sort it out.” Ginny swept a smattering of crumbs into her palm and locked eyes with Gabe, making it seem so impossibly simple.

“I feel like I’m cheating Jenna, if I bring another woman into Mia’s life,” Gabe admitted. Saying the words out loud had given them the power.

Ginny nodded but carried on. “You’re only cheating yourself Gabe, out of happiness. And that’s a real shame, ‘specially after all these years and ‘specially knowing what Jen wanted.”

That was truth. Jenna had told Gabe that she wanted him to have a full life, one that wasn’t defined only by her and their life and her death. She wanted him to be happy again. She didn’t, above all else she had said, want him to be lonely. At the time, Gabe had been disgusted. He loved Jenna, no one else would be for him what she was, and considering settling for anything less was physically painful. But now, after all the years of being alone, he felt differently. Not that he didn’t believe the life he had with Jenna was less than, but that he needed more than an isolated home and a little girl. He wanted to love and be loved in return; it was figuring out how to do that which hung him up.

“I’ll think about it and I’ll talk to Kris,” Gabe conceded but knowing Kris would consider it an honor, something she’d do with joy. She’d wanted to meet Mia for months now, asked several times and hinted at not understanding why the walls around his life were so hard to take down. His excuses were wearing thin, even to his ears; he could never tell her it was because if she came into this life, it was removing Jenna just a bit more.

Gabe looked towards Mia’s room, the door shut tightly, keeping everyone out, walling herself away. He had wondered over the years if he’d done right by Mia, if keeping her here had been right thing, if keeping her sheltered from life moving on—him moving on—was of any real benefit when it seemed to move on with its own volition anyway.

“Have her call Soph today, please?” Gabe asked as he pulled his briefcase from the chair and shrugged on his trench coat.

“Of course,” Ginny agreed.

“Make sure she figures out what she’s missing at school today. She can’t fall behind, no matter what.”

“She’s a smart girl, she’s doin’ just fine,” Ginny countered, frustrated. Mia shined in school; gifted with words and with numbers, she was smart.

“It only takes one assignment,” Gabe sagely cautioned.

“Sometimes you worry about the wrong things,” Ginny muttered quietly.

~ * * * ~

Mia pulled the plantations shutters open in her room, looking out over the calm bay. The box felt like a thousand pounds in her hands, and she set it safely on the corner of her desk, pulling out only the thin white envelope with her name neatly printed in the center.

Mia

She slipped her finger under the seal. It felt brittle and stiff from time, yet it cracked open easily. Inside was a white sheet of stationery, bordered with a small row of fern leaves. Mia gasped; she remembered this paper. It had sat in a little tray on top of her mother’s desk. It was thick and expensive, and Mia had used to sneak into the office to steal pieces to paint water color on. It had been her favorite. Looking at it now made her miss her mother more than she had in a great while.

Dear Mia,

Do you remember this box? You were so excited the day Ginny brought it for you, so now that it’s yours, please remember to thank her again for it ... and tell her “thank you,” from me as well.

Do you remember what this box is called? It’s a hope chest. Usually, you’ll probably figure out some day, they are typically much larger. Usually, mothers fill them for their daughters with quilts, frames, pictures, trinkets, tablecloths and candle sticks. They are intended to be stuffed with things that a mother hopes her daughter will use when they get old enough to appreciate what’s inside. Useful things, things to help start a daughter start their independent life.

This is your hope chest. My hopes for you. Inside I have left ten tapes, and each one is marked by an important occasion in your life. You’ll find one for your wedding day, the first time you fall in love and some others as well.

When I found out that I was dying, that our time together was coming to a close, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure how to relinquish the hold motherhood put on me, to trust your life to anyone else. I love your father and I know he’ll do right by you, guide you, encourage and inspire you ...but there are some things only a mother can offer; it’s not something you can replace or substitute, no matter how many other people love you. I don’t think anyone is every truly ready to let go of their child, but you were just a little girl—my little girl—and what I was leaving behind was someone who would still need a mother, who was still going to pass these milestones and want a confidante, need advice, seek comfort. That, Mia, was the hardest part for me to come to terms with.

You were only three when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I hardly had time to get to know you, you were becoming this little person and it was amazing to be part of that—you were starting to have real opinions, likes and dislikes and expressions, and then our lives changed. I lost years with you, you lost years with me, it wasn’t the way I had planned and it was so far from what I had expected when we decided to have a child. There was no choice in the matter. That’s the frustrating part; people will tell you “life is full of choices”... but it’s the things that you have no say in that can hurt you the most, change you the most. So, after years of having no say in our lives and our path, there was the choice. I had fought for so long, hoping for that light at the end of the tunnel, for remission and eventually a cure. But, it never came. The doctors had told me that, no matter what, I was never going into remission, that I could keep fighting for a while longer, but that wouldn’t change the outcome of this disease, I was dying—and it was only a matter of time. I decided to stop fighting. I was given the choice to spend time with you—to have a few months were I could be present and feel good and play with you without worrying about catching a cold or picking up something that would make my health worse, and who wouldn’t want that? It was the choice to be normal, even for just a little while. I had missed so much of your little life thus far, and I wanted to take what I could. Even if it was only six months, we’d always have that. Those few months we had together were some of the best of my life.

But, because I knew I was leaving you much too soon, and you were still much too young to have the important conversations, mother to daughter, I made these tapes for you. These are your milestone tapes. For if or when you find yourself in that place and want to hear my take on things, this is something you can listen to. I promise you’ll find honesty, stories, and you’ll probably hear things you won’t like—typical, of course; I am your mother. But here’s the deal—you can only listen to them when they become relevant to your life—not before. If you don’t get married, or don’t have children—that’s okay. These tapes are my hopes ... but they are not my expectations. The truth is, I have no idea who you’ll grow up to be ... a lawyer, a doctor, a poet, an artist ... I have no clue and your options are limitless. Maybe you’ll get married, but maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll go to college, but maybe you won’t. I’m not good with numbers, but I’m guessing there are millions of paths you could take and millions of choices to make down each individual path. I’m sure I’ve missed some milestones, I’m sure the world you live in now is much different than the world I lived in ... but none of that matters ... I just want you to be the best version of Mia Elizabeth Chamberland you can be.

I’m sure, once these tapes make their way to you, you’ll want to listen to them all right now. Over the years, after your grandmother passed away, I longed for her voice, I wanted to have a conversation with her, to get her take on things—like when I married your father or having you later in life, so I can understand how you’re probably feeling. I don’t know if I would have had the restraint to stop myself from listening had there been anything to listen to. But, please don’t, please try to wait. The truth is, listening to anything now wouldn’t make sense; the context is wrong. We could have had many of these talks when you were a little girl. We could have talked about being in love, choosing a path in life, making your way in the world ... but I knew you weren’t ready for those sort of conversations. You were seven years old and the context of these life lessons were above what you could understand and probably even now you’re not ready for some of them. These were made with moments in mind, times when you’d take away something important, so even if you’re tempted ... wait ... it will be worth it. Listen to them at the time for which they are intended, they’ll mean more to you.

What happened to us wasn’t fair, I would have given everything, given anything, for more time with you and your dad in our home together, healthy and happy. But life has a way of changing our plans whether we want it to or not. Your journey needs to continue, but I’m still your mother and I still wanted to be a part of that in what small way I can. I remember sitting on the deck in the early morning, watching the weather roll in off the coast, rocking you slowly and thinking you were the most amazing, most perfect thing I’d ever done in my life. Your ten little fingers and ten little toes, your soft skin, plump baby belly and your beautiful blue eyes, your sweet little smile and your endearing little coos, the best part of my life without a doubt. I still believe that. So be amazing Mia, be happy and be proud of the woman you are. Whatever choices you make, make sure they are the ones that work for you, make sure you stay true to the person you are and only ever change for the better. I love you.

Love,

Mom

Mia read the note over and over until the words mushed across the page and her eyes hurt. Folding the note up, she slipped it back inside the envelope. The tapes were small and labeled. There were ten, like she promised. They were disorganized and in no particular order, so pulling each one out, she read the labels.

Your Wedding Day!

Becoming a Mother

College Graduation