Seré Halverson - The Underside of Joy

I had to figure out a way to make this stack of cards and letters work in the kids’ favour.

It had been there all along, winking at me, saying, Hello? Paige’s return address on Annie’s and Zach’s envelopes. Some were from a hospital. But some weren’t. I had to guess they were from Aunt Bernie’s, when Paige had been living there. That night I wrote: Maybe, just maybe, Aunt Bernie can help?

I knew it was rude to just show up at Aunt Bernie’s, but I had no way of getting her phone number except to call Paige, which defeated the purpose. Following the map out to the edge of town — or I should say the last edge, because I could tell they kept adding as the place grew, edge after edge, like a beige braided rug that someone couldn’t leave alone — I imagined that when Paige lived there as a child, it was out in the middle of nowhere. But now there was a Vons supermarket and a Rite Aid, some restaurants and a housing development. The trailer park had mature trees, and the trailers didn’t look so much like trailers, but neat, boxy houses with tiny front porches and small multicoloured rock gardens. Much nicer than I’d imagined.

I knocked on the front door. No one answered. I was glad I’d left Callie back at the apartment, because even though it was morning, the sun already bore down relentlessly on the dry, dusty pavement. I waited, then knocked again. I was hoping to catch her before she left for work. But maybe she didn’t work. Maybe she was still asleep. ‘Aunt Bernie?’ I called before I realized that was Paige’s name for her, but certainly not mine.

Almost immediately, I heard her say, ‘Paige?’ and she opened the door. She was not what I expected, not at all. Midfifties, trim and tall, with a dark, stylish bob haircut and a lovely dove grey business suit. ‘Oh! I thought you were my niece.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you “aunt”.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘I’m Ella Beene.’

She stared.

I slipped my hand into my pocket. ‘I was hoping we could talk…’

‘Oh?’

‘Could I come in?’

She stared another moment, then said, ‘Oh, why not?’ and turned and led me into her house. The front room was cluttered with boxes and magazines and gadgets and gizmos. ‘The kitchen is this way,’ she promised. ‘Don’t mind all this. I’ve been cleaning out the closets.’

Her kitchen wasn’t dirty, just crowded with magazines and appliances and stacks of papers. I realized that her niece wasn’t the only thing Aunt Bernie had saved. I also suddenly understood Paige’s passion for feng shui and home staging.

‘Here, have a seat.’ She motioned to the table. She sat on the bar stool, stacks of Redbook s, National Geographic s, and bills on the table. ‘Excuse the mess. I don’t have company much.’ Her face coloured but she regained her composure. ‘Coffee? Tea?’

‘Tea, if you have it.’

‘Dear, as you can see, I have everything.’ She filled the pot with water.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t call,’ I said. ‘I didn’t have your number. Paige doesn’t know I’m here.’

‘Yes, I figured as much. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m on my way to work.’

‘What do you do?’ I was curious. She looked so professional, so out of place in her own home.

‘Oh, I work for the IRS, if you really want to know.’ She tilted her chin up in mock bravado. ‘I am a tax auditor.’

‘Good to know,’ I said, attempting to hide my surprise.

She brought me the tea in a delicate cup and saucer. ‘So you see’ — she smiled as she set it down in front of me — ‘I’m not used to people seeking me out. It’s usually the other way around. Now, what would you like to talk about?’

‘It’s Paige.’ I chose my words carefully. ‘I’m sorry about everything she’s been through, and I can understand why she’s angry. But I love Annie and Zach too. I understand that I’m not, you know, their birth mother. But I love them that way. And I want to have a relationship with them. I want things to be more open.’

I talked about finding the letters, how I hadn’t known Paige had been writing the kids and Joe, or that she had wanted to come back.

I said, ‘I was nervous to come here. I figured you’d slam the door in my face too.’

Bernie nodded. She moved her watch around and around on her slim wrist. ‘Actually, Ella, I am glad you came to talk to me. Yes, I am Paige’s aunt, and I love her very, very much. But you and I’ — she glanced up at me — ‘we have something important in common.’ She took a deep breath, readjusted herself on the bar stool. ‘You see, I loved and cared for Paige since she was an infant. Her own mother had serious problems; I won’t go into that — that’s Paige’s private business. But I took her in and kept her under my wing as if she were my own. And although she called me her aunt, I felt every bit her mother, as I can see you feel towards Annie and Zach. She’s my daughter, in my mind and in my heart.

‘And so I do understand your position, Ella. My sister was never able to return. I haven’t told Paige this: But if her mother had been able to return, if she had come back and taken Paige away from me, I would not have been able to forgive her.’

Her gaze shifted past me, and I followed it to a patch of sunlight, which seemed to have adhered to a crack along the wall like a bandage. Our eyes met as she continued. ‘Paige is their mother; she deserves to be their mother. But I see myself in you, and I understand your pain — and your love.’ She fished out her tea bag with a spoon. ‘I’ll try to talk to her. I’ll tell her what I have never said to this day. I’ve kept my mouth shut when she says, “But I’m their mother. No one can love them and take care of them like I can!” I haven’t held her face in my hands and said, “But, Paige, have I not loved you as a mother loves her child?” I have not said this, you see, because my sister was never a mother to her. Never a mother at all.’

‘What…’ I picked up my teacup, then set it back down. ‘What, exactly, did Paige’s mother do ?’

‘That, my dear girl, is a question for Paige.’

As I was leaving, I passed the refrigerator. It was covered with pictures of Paige at different ages. When she was little, she looked exactly like Annie. And then I saw a paper cut-out purple heart. It said Happy Valenites DaY Mama, from Annie, age 3. Aunt Bernie saw me looking at it. ‘That’s the one thing Paige brought with her when she left Joe and the kids and showed up here. I told her it was her purple heart. For a long time, it was her talisman. It helped keep her alive. When she moved out, she said I could keep it. That she knew someday Annie would make her another Valentine’s Day card.’ She smiled. ‘Paige understands how hard it is for me to let go of things.’

I got on the freeway, and I should have gone straight back to the apartment. I shouldn’t have been so pushy, so determined to finally make a breakthrough with Paige. But I couldn’t wait. My God! Aunt Bernie! Why hadn’t I thought to talk to her from the beginning, or when I found the letters, at the very least, with her address right there in Paige’s own handwriting? As if this whole mess I was in had come with simple, easy-to-follow directions on how to get out of it.

I turned up Paige’s street. She and Aunt Bernie were probably just hanging up. With Bernie’s endorsement and the letters from Paige to the kids — all unopened — she’d have to trust me, to see that I was a good person and that we could work out something so we could both be a part of Zach’s and Annie’s lives. ‘I want both of you,’ they had said. Hell, if we had to live in this awful place, so be it. It’s not what I wanted, not what Annie and Zach wanted, but I was willing to do anything to see them, to be in their lives.