The Invisible Son, Chapter 4

With two weeks left until Christmas, it was time to get Mamie her tree. I had heard Eliza telling some friends at school that she was going on a college visit for the weekend, so once Saturday morning chores were done, I grabbed the chainsaw and my work gloves and drove into town, turned left past the old school house, and made my way down the long driveway to where their cottage was nestled at the edge of the woods, smoke furling out of the chimney.
Mamie came out on the porch before I was halfway down the driveway. I could picture her jumping up from her crossword puzzle, jolting her big dog Dudley from his nap on the hardwood floor. She looked small wearing the heavy weight of her grey wool cloak, but her face lit up from underneath the hood. “Caleb!” I could see her mouth as I put the truck in park, and “I’ve missed you,” as I climbed out.
“Ready for your tree, Mamie?” I asked.
“Oh, what a boy you are – if you’re ready for some hot apple pie.”
“It’s the breakfast of champions,” I smiled, and reached down to give her a hug.
“All right then, it’s a deal. Now pick out one that’s good ‘n full – none of those twiggy ones.”
“You’ve got it.”
I remember my mother telling me that when Mamie’s husband was alive, he didn’t understand the “purpose” of having a Christmas tree; he thought they made a mess and took up space. Mamie, though, was just as stubborn then as she was now, and so when she insisted, he’d bring her the classic “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree every year. My mother described what sad little trees they truly were, but also told me that Mamie took a world of pride in decorating each one, and making sure that Eliza grew up with good holiday memories.
In the hour it took me to find Mamie the perfect tree, the mid-day sky had turned a dark shade of grey, and was now filled with thick flakes swirling wildly. I held the chainsaw in one hand and dragged the tree with the other, my thighs burning with each step that sunk into the deep snow. When I reached the back door, I leaned the tree against the house, set the chainsaw down on the woodpile and stepped into Mamie’s warm kitchen.
Eliza was sitting across from me at the dining room table, squeezing Mamie’s hand and crying hysterically.
“I, uh… I’m going to go.”
“No!” Eliza looked up, her eyes red and raw from tears. “No, Caleb, please don’t go.”
At that moment I had no idea what was wrong, I only knew that I wanted to hug her. I stood stiffly by the kitchen door, the snow melting from my boots and the bottom of my pants onto the doormat. The house smelled of cinnamon and brown sugar, and my stomach let out an untimely growl.
Mamie pushed the box of tissues towards Eliza, got up and walked into the kitchen. “You’re hungry,” she announced, looking right at me. “Take off those boots,” she added with a tap on my arm, and with that she reached into the oven and pulled out the pie.
I did as I was told and then stood next to my pile of melted snow in the kitchen. I glanced around uneasily, first watching Mamie slice the pie, and then watching Eliza stare out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
When Mamie was done, she handed me a glass of milk and signaled for me to follow her into the dining room. She set my pie down at the head of the table, and then returned to her seat across from Eliza.
“Now Caleb,” Mamie said softly. “These last few weeks have been hard on both of you, but Eliza was just telling me that she made a mistake, and - ”
“Mamie, stop,” Eliza interrupted.
“What, dear? That’s what you said, and then you asked Caleb to stay, so I - ”
“Mamie, I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Mamie grasped the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white. Then she looked at me.
I shook my head, my eyes closed. “Andrew.”
At the sound of his name, Mamie’s eyes narrowed and she turned her gaze on Eliza. “Andrew?”
“God, Caleb!” Eliza cried even louder. “It was such a stupid, stupid thing. I don’t know what to say.”
I looked up for the first time. This was not the girl I loved, smart and strong-willed, confident and loyal. This was not the girl who stood next to me at my mother’s funeral, squeezing my hand as a silent tear rolled down her cheek. These tears belonged to a naïve, weak, selfish girl who was pregnant with my brother’s child.
I set down my fork and walked to the door and pulled my boots on swiftly. “I, uh… I don’t know what to say, either, Eliza.”
***
As it turns out, Eliza’s “college visit” to Boston was a trip to bear bad news to my brother. I’m not sure if she thought delivering the news in person would make him handle the situation a certain way, but obviously Eliza didn’t know my brother very well. He had nodded, grabbed her hand and said, “We need to take care of this together.”
“Yes,” she had said.
“There’s a place a couple towns over that my buddy and his girlfriend went to… I just need to jump in a fast shower, I feel gross.”
Apparently, as soon as she heard the water of the shower running, Eliza had run out of the apartment and driven straight home to Mamie, where I walked in on them after getting the tree. These details I heard from Eliza’s best friend, Annie, who cornered me after our basketball game one night.
“She just feels so, so, so bad, Caleb.”
“Of course she does, Annie,” I nodded, even sympathetically. “She just blew a full scholarship to play soccer at Bates because she got pregnant at 17 by a guy who hopes he’ll never see her again!”
“Caleb,” Annie breathed in sharply, not used to seeing me upset. “That not all, I mean… She’s really sorry, Caleb. She wishes more than anything it was you.”
My dad used to tell me and Andrew that “Sometimes you’ll learn lessons the hard way, and sometimes you’ll learn really hard lessons the really hard way.” I had to believe that although I hadn’t asked for any of this, I had learned something from it.
“Well, Annie, I'm sorry too, but that’s just not the way it worked out.”