6500 ~ 8600

Sam made the short drive from Center City to Lindstrom and pulled into the small parking lot at her mother’s apartment complex. Slowly she gathered up her carry-all and racket bag. This was always the hardest part of the trip. By comparison the eighteen hours of driving were easy; even the drive through Lindstrom knowing the inevitable was close at hand was easy. These last few steps marked her last chance to get away. Escape was not going to happen, not this trip.

Sam pulled open the outer door and entered the small vestibule. She could either call her mother to buzz her in or punch in her five digit code. Sam thought for a moment trying to recall the number, then clicked 0-4-1-2-4. Sam could never understand why her mother had chosen such a random number instead of her birthday or Allison’s birthday or one of the grandkids birthdays. There really was no explaining her mother. As they entered the main hall on the first floor, Kate took off running. She stopped right in front of Jean Stephens door and looked back at Sam as if to say ‘Hurry up!’.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Sam replied. For as much as Sam hated visiting Jean, Kate loved it. Jean spared no expense when it came to her ‘grand-puppy’ - gourmet dog treats, new toys, and a designer dog bed all awaited Kate. Visiting her grandmother was good fun, especially when the other grandkids came over and took her for long romps in a nearby park. Once they entered Jean’s apartment, Kate would be no help.

Kate reached up a paw and scratched the door. Sam picked up the pace but arrived just as her mother was opening the door.

“Kate!”, Jean Stephens exclaimed as she reached down to pet the dog. Sam exhaled and rolled her eyes. Damn traitor, she thought. At that moment her mother looked up from the dog to greet Sam.

“You look like Hell, Samantha, and smell like alcohol.”

Sam learned long ago that lying or beating around the bush would be futile. “Malin called just as I was pulling into town and asked if I could pop into Al’s for a quick drink.” She decided to try one small lie.

“That’s so typical. Spending time with your friends instead of your family. When will you ever learn what’s important?” Jean turned her attention to the dog who seemed plastered to her side. “Oh, Kate… It is sooo good to see you. I’ve got a special surprise for you”.

At this, Kate ran ahead of Jean and sat in front of the counter in the kitchen. She knew exactly where her grandmother kept the treats. Instead of opening the treat jar, Jean reached for a small white box on top of the refrigerator.

“They opened a dog biscuit bakery in Forest Lake. In the same shopping center as the dog food place and that diner you liked last time you visited.” Jean put the box on the counter and opened it as Kate sat at attention near her feet. Unbelievably, the treat looked just like a small cup cake. Jean cooed at the dog as Kate reached a paw up to shake.

Popping the treat into Kate’s mouth, Jean said with a sneer, “And you know they say THAT Malin Jonassen is a lesbian now.” Her emphasis was on ‘that’, as in ‘that girl’, ‘that lesbian’, ‘that Malin’.

“Yes, Mom, I know”, Sam countered with a bit of resignation. She could still smell Malin’s perfume and remembered what her body had felt like as she hugged her goodbye not even fifteen minutes before.

“I slept with her in New York,” Sam was tempted to add, but the statement stayed firmly and safely in her head. There was no reason to get her mother going any more than she already was.

Jean Stephens didn’t like Malin, never had. She hadn’t liked her father, with whom she attended church (’How a bar owner could show his face in church’ was a common comment), and didn’t like that his bar catered to Hell’s Angels, as she called Al’s motorcycle riding patrons. She had hoped that Malin would close the bar and open some other more respectable kind of business in it’s place. Sam didn’t think her mother cared one way or the other than Malin was gay. Jean simply didn’t like her and that was that.

“Oh, I have to show you my garden. Pat from upstairs and I are trying to do containers again this year.”

It had started. For the next few days, Sam would endure her mother’s stream of consciousness conversation. She would flit from topic to topic and invective to invective. It was best to let her talk and interject as little as possible.

“How was the drive? I don’t understand why you do that. Eighteen hours in a car? Jeff would have gone to the Cities to pick you up. Or you could have planned to meet Allison at her law firm. Then you could have had some sister time on the way home.” They had settled into two armchairs in Jean’s living room. Kate was laying at Jean’s feet, basking in the after-glow of her ‘cupcake’.

The last thing Sam wanted was ‘sister time’ with Allison. Her sister was insufferable, opinionated, and boring. Oh, and she was also Super Woman. She worked full time as a partner in a fairly prestigious law firm in Minneapolis, served on the Lindstrom city council, and raised three children singlehandedly to hear her tell it even though Jeff did a lion’s share of the work before and after school. Like her mother, Allison thought Sam lead frivolous life and should get a real job and a real career. Writing pulpy novels wasn’t going to pay the bills forever. Sam was thirty-six for God’s sake. It was time to stop playing around and join the real world.

Sam decided it was her turn to change the subject and get to the point of her visit. Yes, it was the Annual Mom visit, a trip taken once a year whether she wanted to or not, but this year held a higher purpose. The sooner Sam could get in, out, and done the better. If everything went according to Sam’s plan, she could feasibly be gone by Monday or Tuesday at the latest. She wanted to spend some time with Jeff and hangout with her twelve year old niece, Mallory, and she assumed she’d see Malin and Jackie again(Ugh, thought Sam. Damn, jealousy. Damn stupidity), but that was about it. She had a deadline hanging over her head back home. She had to get it done; she couldn’t let Emily down.

“Mom,” Sam started. “I need to talk to you about something…”

 

 

 

~

“Oh Lord, Samantha, what now? It’s almost midnight. Can’t we do this in the morning over coffee.”

“No, Mom. Actually I’d like to talk to you about this right now,” Sam insisted. Jean settled back in her chair with a scowl and an air of indifference.

“If you must”.

“Ok, so a few weeks ago I went to San Diego to see Dad and Donna.” Sam immediately realized her opening was flawed.

“Why do you always have to bring up your father? Why Samantha?”

What Sam didn’t say was that it was usually Jean who brought him up at some point during her visit. Her mother liked to throw salvos at her father, more often than not her comments centered on what her father could afford to do, like take a cruise to Mexico, while Jean suffered on a fixed income and never went anywhere.

“This isn’t about Dad. It’s about you. What I was going to say is that I have some extra money saved up and I want to do something nice for you and Dad. I talked to him about it when I was there. Mom, do you have a Bucket List?

“A what?”

“A Bucket List? I thought we watched that movie together a few years ago. You know the one with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman? The two guys who were dying and traveled the world living out their dreams?”

“Your father’s dying?”

Jesus Christ. “No, Mom. But neither of you are getting any younger. Do you have a list like in the movie? Is there anything you want to do or go before you die?” Sam paused.

“Samantha, are you trying to kill me off? I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

“I know, Mom. But isn’t there something you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Like what?” countered Jean.

“Hmm… Like visit Paris or see Wimbledon in person. Or go to Antarctica. There’s got to be something.”

“What did your father say? Did he go along with this? Of course he went along…” Jean was never very kind when it came to Sam’s father or to Donna, his wife.

“Dad has always wanted to see the Panama Canal since reading about it when he was a kid. He saw a trip on a cruise line website and thought it would be fun. That’s what he asked for. Donna said she wanted to see Alaska. They thought a cruise would be the best bet”, Sam explained.

“Cruises? That’s what she and your father wanted? That’s what they didn’t want to die without doing?”, spat Jean.

“Yes, Mom. Cruises. There’s no rules for a Bucket List. It’s just stuff you want to do before you die.”

“Ok, Miss Smarty Pants, what’s on your list?”

Sam stopped a moment to think then said, “Well, I’ve already scratched a few things off, like ‘Make the New York Times Best Seller List’, ‘See Wimbledon In Person’, and ‘Donate My Hair to Locks of Love’. At the moment, I’m trying to scratch one more item off my list.” Sam said the last part with a laugh.

Jean must have missed the nuance. “What’s that?”

Sam exhaled to calm herself. “Make a Bucket List Wish Come True for My Parents,” she said. “Dammit, Mom. Why does it always have to be so difficult? I just want to do something nice for you and Dad…”

“And Donna?” her mother interrupted.

“Yes, and Donna. You have all done so much for me throughout my life. I was able to play college tennis on a scholarship because of all the traveling we did when I was a kid. I know that can’t have always been easy for you. I know I haven’t been the daughter you dreamed of having, but regardless…” Sam trailed off with tears in her eyes and Jean softened a bit.

“Well, if it’s that important to you, I’ll at least think about it. Nothing comes to mind. I have a good life here and I get to watch my grandchildren grow up. I can’t imagine wanting anything more than that.”

Sam got up from her chair and moved toward the guest bedroom. Kate stayed by Jean’s side. “Talk about it again tomorrow?” Sam asked.

“Good night, Samantha. We’ll see”.

~

Jean retired to her bedroom and snuggled up with her grandpuppy. Her apartment complex didn’t allow dogs and Jean had always had one. Her annual visits with Kate never failed to raise her spirits. Jean grabbed the remote and turned on the TV and DVD player. Even though it was late and well passed her usual bed time, Jean like to wind down by watching a few minutes of an old movie. This week she’d watched most of ‘Vertigo’, a movie she had first seen in junior high or high school in Cincinnati. If she could stay awake long enough, she could finish it. Up next was ‘South Pacific’. Jean smiled as she remembered going to see it numerous times with her best childhood friend, Ruthie. They learned the songs, much to their parents’ chagrin, and dreamed of visiting a tropical island together one day. As she thought about it, she’d seen ‘Vertigo’ with Ruthie also. Jean looked at the DVD cases. Both movies were released in 1958. That make perfect sense. She and Ruthie would have been in junior high, seventh grade. In those days, if they weren’t playing tennis or talking about tennis, they were discussing movies. Jean laughed at the memory. They had even started writing a screenplay together. Jean wrote and Ruthie, the artist, drew scenes that they would work into their movie. Funny, Jean hadn’t thought of Ruthie for years.

As the credits for ‘Vertigo’ rolled, Jean fell asleep.