Delia Parr - Day By Day

“No. Not at all. I just don’t want to impose. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“And I’d better stay on my feet if I want to stay awake until Brian gets back from the puppet show,” Judy teased.

“Shall I set up in the kitchen? I’d rather not risk it here.”

Barbara laughed. “I could tell you stories about the havoc two little six-year-olds have managed to unleash in the past two months, but you probably have a good idea now that Brian is with you. You couldn’t possibly do any worse damage, but the kitchen would be better, I suppose.”

Barbara led Judy into the kitchen and pointed to the granite countertop where Judy set her canvas bag. She laid out a piece of heavy plastic and lined up several pairs of scissors next to familiar bottles of hair dye and conditioner. “We’ll color first and cut second, if that’s all right?”

“Sure.” Barbara pulled a low-backed chair away from the seventeenth-century farmer’s table she had found in an antique barn in Connecticut several years back and sat down.

Judy motioned her back up, laid another piece of plastic the size of a shower curtain on the tiled floor, carried the chair to the middle, and smiled. “That’s better. Now if any dye drops on the floor, it won’t matter. As you can see, I’ve been known to drop a little dye in the past.”

Barbara looked at the splotches that covered the drop cloth, cringed and sat down. While Judy fit a plastic cape around her shoulders, Barbara folded her hands on her lap and toyed with her wedding ring. “You seem to have this down to a real science.”

Judy laughed. “I’d better. I’ve been making house calls for twenty years or more. Most of the time they’re at the Towers. Ann and I both still have a few customers who live at home, but don’t go out much so we go to them. As a matter of fact, Ann was just at Alice Conner’s home.”

“How is Ann doing? The last time I was in the shop in the spring, she was just back from being home sick for a few weeks. Gout, wasn’t it?”

Judy nodded. “She’s been having a rough time of it for the last year or so.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman, other than Ann, who had gout. I thought that was something men got.”

“I think it is, but to hear Ann tell it, gout is just another surprise reserved for some very special postmenopausal women.” Judy chuckled. “And Ann is definitely a special woman, even though she isn’t very faithful about following the diet the doctor ordered or taking her medication. Once she feels better, she’s right back to her old habits, I’m afraid,” she admitted, and ran her fingers through Barbara’s shoulder-length hair.

Barbara closed her eyes and took gentle breaths so she could concentrate on the soothing sensations Judy created with her fingertips.

“Your cut has really grown out, and there’s a bit of a problem with split ends. Nothing I can’t fix. I assume you want the same cut?”

Barbara shrugged. “I’ve worn my hair the same way for so long, I wouldn’t know how to manage anything beyond having a center part and just turning the ends under.”

Judy played with her hair again for a while before she stopped and walked around her full circle. “You might want to try something new. Sometimes change is good for your hair and it can lift your spirits, too.”

Barbara opened her eyes and met Judy’s gaze. “Change can be hard, too.”

Judy’s gaze softened and she nodded. “I guess we both know some changes are harder than others, don’t we?”

Barbara swallowed hard and accepted the invitation of friendship and understanding in Judy’s eyes. “Losing Steve was the worst nightmare in my life. Everything has changed. Nothing, absolutely nothing is the same as it used to be.”

“I know. Or I think I know,” Judy admitted. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and her gaze grew distant. “Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I wonder where Candy is or if I’ll ever see her again.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. About Steve. I—”

“In my heart, I know Steve is safe now and happy. He’s Home,” Barbara whispered. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. Madge told me Candy is in a hospital somewhere in California, but her husband couldn’t tell you where or how soon she’ll be released.”

Judy took a deep breath. “She’s in rehab. She’s been in and out of rehab for years. I couldn’t tell you how many times. I’d lost count long before Frank died and she showed up for his viewing stoned and out of control. She left in the middle of the night and didn’t even bother showing up for the funeral. I haven’t heard a word from her since. She’s somewhere in California. I don’t know where. Her husband couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me. That’s my nightmare…not knowing…being half afraid I’ll never see her again and being half afraid she’ll show up on my doorstep, stoned or high, demanding to take Brian back into that life again. That’s another nightmare.”

She sighed. “It’s hard being a mother again, but I won’t ever let him go back with her unless I’m absolutely certain he’ll be safe.”

“I’m sorry. Truly sorry,” Barbara whispered. “Have you given any thought to hiring a detective to find her, just to make sure she’s all right?”

Judy picked up the bottle of hair dye and turned it round and round in her hand. “Detectives cost money—money better spent, if I had it, for Brian. As it is, putting him into day care for most of the summer used up whatever I had saved. It’s better now that school has started. I had to hire a sitter for Saturdays, even though it’s usually pretty slow and I lose money because the Saturday crowd has switched to the new salon that does both hair and nails. The after-school program is less expensive, but it’s still a strain on my budget. I’m not complaining, though. Brian is all I’ve got left of Candy. He’s my flesh and blood, and I’ll care for him and protect him any way I have to.”

Barbara clenched her own hands. “Sometimes my imagination runs wild, and I have these dreams about Steve’s ex-wife suddenly appearing and taking the children away, even though she hasn’t tried to contact them since she walked out on them three years ago. They’re all I have left of Steve. I don’t want to lose them, too.”

She swallowed hard, all too aware of the similar challenges she and Judy seemed to be facing. Barbara’s loss, with Steve’s death, might be very public, splashed in the newspapers for all to read about, while Judy’s was more private and perhaps more painful to bear because she was all alone in her grief and struggles. But they both shared the common bond of dealing with the loss of a child, one to death, the other to drugs; their fears about losing their grandchildren; and the ongoing problems of keeping them and adjusting to being mothers again instead of grandmothers. Alone, they struggled in their new roles. Perhaps together, as friends, they might share the struggle and find the path of rediscovered motherhood easier to travel.

Judy held up the bottle of hair dye and read the label. “Summer Sunrise. That’s your color, right?” she asked, changing the subject back to the task at hand.

Barbara nodded.

“Just checking. I’d rather find out now instead of later.”

“Good idea. Maybe while you’re coloring my hair, you could give me some idea of a new style that would be easier to manage?”

When Judy cocked a brow, Barbara smiled. “A little change might be good,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s time for some good change. For both of us.”

Judy cocked the other brow. “For both of us?”

Barbara smiled, but only time would tell if her hopes for a stronger friendship between them would be fulfilled.