Page 91 of Dreams of Falling
Ivy
2010
My Ellis has been sitting on the side of my bed now for two days. I knew something was different when his Mustang went from revving the engine to just idling, like it was waiting.
And then Ellis walked through the wall of my hospital room and sat down. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, and it’s like no time has passed. The love I feel hasn’t changed. I want him to take my hand, or kiss me, but it’s clear that I’m here and he’s there and the distance might as well be as wide as Winyah Bay because Ellis is unreachable to me.
Mack comes in carrying flowers that I’m pretty sure came from Carol Anne’s garden, and I hope he asked her permission first. Mack is probably one of the most thoughtful and considerate people I’ve ever known, but he usually acts first and then thinks. I’d like to say Larkin gets her impulsive nature from him, but I think we all know that’s a Darlington trait that I have suffered from myself for most of my life.
He moves a vase of flowers from Bitty on the table by my bed, replacing it with his bouquet and setting Bitty’s vase on the floor right by my bed. If he paces like he usually does when he visits, he’s goingto knock the vase right over. Like I said, he’s really good at acting before he thinks.
He starts pacing, and I’m glad, because it would be awkward if he and Ellis were sitting on the bed together. I know Ellis sees him because he’s watching him with kind eyes, his expression appreciative. Like he’s thanking Mack for taking care of me all these years. He’s right. Despite that one big lapse in judgment, Mack has always put me on a pedestal, making sure I wanted for nothing. Well, except for the one thing I couldn’t have.
But now Ellis is here, and it seems like Mack has brought him to me. I feel whole now, as if the two halves of my heart have come together. I wonder if that’s a sign of some kind.
“I miss you, Ivy. I miss you so much.” Mack stops at the side of my bed and looks down at me, touches my cheek. “I can’t remember the last time I told you I love you. I guess I gave up waiting for you to say it back. I just want you to know that I’m okay with that. I know you loved me in your way, and that really was enough for a long time. But then that thing with Larkin her senior year. When something bad happened but she wouldn’t talk about it.” He stops and shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I needed a partner then, someone to talk with about it. And you were off painting murals in other people’s houses. I saw the one you did in Carol Anne’s laundry room, you know. I saw the highway with the 1960s cars, and the red Mustang convertible with you and Ellis in the front seat, your hair streaming behind you. Hard to miss that hair. I think I told you once it’s the color of sea oats with a slice of fire in it. Not sure where that red came from, but it matches your personality. It’s just one of the many things I love about you.”
He starts pacing again. “I liked feeling needed, too. By someone I could talk to who wasn’t wishing I was someone else.” He stops by the window. “I’m sorry for what I did. I know I’ve said that a million times, but it’s true. You didn’t deserve it. I would have ended the affair even if Larkin hadn’t seen me with Donna at the movie theater. I promise. I just wish Larkin hadn’t seen that. Everything was going wrong in her world, and then that happened. And when you refusedto leave me, that was the last straw, it seemed. Like everyone in her life had disappointed her, and she couldn’t stay. I just wish I could go back and change all that.”
Mack shakes his head. “I’ve been having strange dreams lately. About Ellis, of all people. I know what he looks like from all the photos at Carol Anne’s. It’s always the same thing. He’s sitting in his Mustang outside Ceecee’s house, looking at the front door like he’s expecting you to come out. I feel the anticipation like it’s me waiting in the car. That’s the whole dream, and the door never opens. Maybe because I’m waiting for you to wake up—who knows? I guess I should ask Larkin about it, since she’s the expert.”
He comes back to the bed, thrumming his hands against the footboard. He approaches like he’s about to say good-bye, but stops. “Did Ceecee or Bitty tell you that Larkin and Bennett are going to the Shag Festival together? I’ve always liked that boy. Didn’t you and Carol Anne used to plot for them to get married? Anyway, she’s going to wear one of Margaret’s dresses—a pretty yellow one that Ceecee’s had in her attic all these years. Bitty says she’s the spitting image of your mother.”
He smiles, and it’s the smile of the young and earnest man that I remember, the man I thought could save me. “I have no idea how I could possibly have fathered such a gorgeous child, but apparently I did. Not a surprise, since you’re her mother. How lucky for her that she got the Darlington genes.”
Not all of them,I want to tell him. Larkin somehow managed to get the worthwhile genes from all the branches of her family tree, leaving the bad ones on the ground like overly ripened fruit.
“By the way, when Larkin stopped by the house, she saw the mural you’d made of her accomplishments. I could tell it made her happy.” He frowns. “Although we’re both confused about the painting of Carrowmore on fire. And the four martins. Not sure what you meant by that. And I sure as heck hope you wake up soon so you can explain it to us.”
I wish I could wave my hands, make him backtrack. I think hard, remembering painting the mural. Remembering why. And all of asudden, light like confetti begins falling from the ceiling, and I feel myself lift a little higher off the mattress.
Mack steps to the side of the bed and leans over to kiss me on the forehead. “Good-bye, Ivy. I’ll come back tomorrow. Hopefully we won’t have another one-sided conversation. It’s like I’m talking to myself, and I’ve never been a great conversationalist.”
He steps back and just like I knew he would, he tips over Bitty’s vase of flowers, the sound of breaking glass bringing a nurse rushing in as water spreads over the floor. It’s Donna, the other woman. She must be new here, because I haven’t seen her before. Neither has Mack, judging by the look of surprise they give each other.
I look over at Ellis, but he’s already gone. I can still hear the Mustang, its engine idling as if waiting for something to happen.
•••
Larkin
2010
Mabry knocked on my bedroom door and opened it. I sat on the stool in front of my vanity table, painting my nails with a color that matched the Certainly Red lipstick Ceecee had let me borrow. I probably should have been embarrassed to admit to anyone that I was borrowing makeup from a seventy-seven-year-old, but it was such a luscious red color that I didn’t care. Plus, it had matching polish. No matter my years in New York City, my Southern roots showed every time I matched my shoes with my purse, or my nail color to my lipstick.
Mabry pulled a full-sized suitcase on wheels behind her and carried a garment bag over her arm, a bag of shoes tied around the handle. “I thought we were getting dressed for a party, not planning a three-month getaway,” I said.
“Ha-ha. I think you’ve been living outside the South too long, sugar,” she said, deepening her already thick accent. She rolled the suitcase to a stop and eyed me critically. “It’s really disgusting to the rest of us, you know.”
“What is?” I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“That you look so good without makeup. Don’t tell anyone I said this out loud, but you don’t need any. Still, I’m going to try.” She bent down to look at me more closely, her grin widening as she spotted something she could fix. “Your eyelashes are pretty pale and so are your brows.” Straightening, she said, “This will be fun,” then began unzipping her suitcase, pulling out makeup bags, hair-styling tools, and a bottle of wine.
“Just like old times.” I grinned, remembering school dances from our not-too-distant past. We’d get dressed and do each other’s makeup and sneak up a bottle of wine with Bennett’s help, using a grocery bag attached to a string dangled outside my window.
“Yep. And we can either be civilized and borrow glasses from Ceecee’s china cabinet, or we could really be retro and take turns drinking it straight from the bottle.”
In answer, I reached over and unscrewed the cap and took a long swig before handing it back to her to do the same. “I hope this is the only part that reminds me of the old school dances,” I said, remembering how I would mostly stand against the wall, pretending I was busy watching the colorful lights on the ceiling or head out on the dance floor and act like I enjoyed dancing by myself. All the while I’d be keeping an eye on Jackson Porter, waiting for him to finally notice me, to see what a great dancer I was and ask me to be his partner. He never did.
