4. Decision Made

The next morning, from the bathroom, Cassie heard what sounded like scraping sounds bellowing up from the front hall. Hastily finishing her business, she drizzled water on her fingers and hurried down the stairs. Just in the nick of time to witness Mary pulling her suitcase across the threshold and reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait! Where are you going, Fran?” Cassie exclaimed.

“Oh, boo-hoo. Don’t be such a baby, Beebs. I gotta get back. You’ll be fine. The Smothering Squad will see to that,” Mary grumbled. Still in her pajamas, Cassie fought back tears as Mary set her suitcase on its wheels and reentered the house.

She took her kid sister’s hand and led her to the sofa. “Here,” she said, patting the leather cushion. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I thought it’d be less painful if I just…”

“Disappeared? Not even a hug?” Cassie sobbed loudly, no longer holding back. “I don’t know if I can do this without you, Fran.” When her little sister was born, two-year-old Mary couldn’t pronounce Cassie. Phoebe was equally difficult. When presented with Feebs, Mary said Beebs. The name stuck. Years later, wanting a rebuttal nickname, Cassie came up with Fran, short for Frances.

“Do you really have to? They told us not to make any major decisions right now.”

“Life-changing!”

“What?”

“Life-changing decisions, Beebs. Going back to school, to finish the trimester I’m seventy-five percent through is not changing. Quitting school would be. The same for you. You have twelfth grade to finish. As I see it, we each have the next year pretty much charted out.” Mary read her sister’s facial expressions. She was making intellectual headway, but emotions were an entirely different challenge.

“Will you come home next summer? Take the summer off?” Cassie attempted to process everything, feeling overwhelmed.

“It might be better if you’d move to Frostburg. Start college there. I’ll still have a couple of years to go. You’ll have nothing holding you here, in this musty, God-forsaken backwater town. Think about it,” Mary added. “I’ll remind you toward the end of the school year. You’ll see.”

“Does Aunt Ruth know? Did you at least say goodbye to her? Thank her for everything she’s done for us?”

Mary smiled, tenderly cupping her sister’s face with her hands, mimicking the countless times their mother had done the same. “Of course!” She rose and turned to Cassie. “Now, run upstairs and get dressed. Fast! I have a surprise for you. But I must be on the road within the hour. Now hurry!”

As she waited for Cassie, Mary made her way to the dining room where she opened the China cabinet. With care, she retrieved a small vase from the top glass shelf and tucked it into her backpack. “I’m ready,” she heard Cassie shout as she raced down the stairs.

Mary rearranged a few items from the passenger seat, making space for her sister. “Where are we going?” Beebs asked excitedly.

“You’ll see.” The drive to Concord Lighthouse took less than two minutes.

“Are we going up? For old times’ sake? You’re such a cool sister… when you want to be,” she remarked. In no time, they had fished for the key, ascended the spiral stairs, climbed the steel ladder, and were now gazing out at the inlet, their hands clutching the rusted railing.

“This is so nice, Fran. Thank you… for taking the time.”

“Here,” Mary said, pulling the vase from her backpack. “Shall we?”

As Cassie recognized her dad’s urn, a huge smile illuminated her face. Together, they held the delicate cloth bag while Mary offered a brief prayer. The air had been unusually still until the moment they tilted the sack. A gentle breeze suddenly scooped beneath the scattered ashes, carrying them up, out, and away.

For the next several minutes, Cassie stood motionless, her squinting eyes determined not to lose sight of her father. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Mary slipping away, descending the stairs, heading out to her car, and driving off.

Over the weekend, Cassie struggled to moderate her emotions. I’ve gotta get control. Mom and Dad would want me to, she reminded herself. Yet Mary’s abrupt departure had thrown her into disarray. Then there were the Village People’s messages echoing in her head.

Cassie’s meandering thoughts were not fruitless. For one thing, she concluded that true understanding is more than just reasoning. True understanding also requires a heart free to sing. To provide the context, relevance, and urgency to any situation, that only a sensitive heart can.”

But that was just theory. In the clutches of a tormented and fatigued mind, one’s thoughts are hopelessly scattered. And within a swollen and aching heart, emotions are mercilessly fragmented. And so, Cassie was mired in her malaise on this sleepy summer afternoon.

With Aunt Ruth back home, Cassie mustered the courage to ask if they could talk. They joined forces to fill the kitchenette table with a spread of leftover finger food.

“So, what’s happening?” Ruth initiated the conversation, pouring chocolate milk into Cassie’s glass. It didn’t take much prompting for her protégé to start sharing.

“It’s a tangle of emotions, Aunt Ruth. Sorrow for Dad, the sting of Mary’s betrayal, and a fog of uncertainty about the next steps. But, most of all, I simply can’t fathom how Mary could just up and leave like that.” Cassie’s heart sang to her aunt with unchecked honesty, her voice carrying the weight of her inner turmoil.

Ruth reclined, observing the steam ascending from the coffee cup trembling in her swollen hand. “When you and Mary were younger, your parents imparted the same life lessons to both of you. About caring for others, and being considerate. Even forsaking your own happiness for the sake of others. Do you recall those teachings?” Cassie nodded.

“Your folks taught these lessons through both words and example. They were intended equally for both of you. But now, you’re older. Time for an adult conversation. Time to recognize your differences.”

“Sounds good,” Cassie responded. For once, someone was treating her as an equal. It was a welcome departure from being perceived as a pitiable charity case. She embraced the respect.

“Can I be blunt, Cassie? You and Mary are markedly different. While you both possess intelligence and compassion, Mary predominantly operates from her heart, while you rely heavily on your brain. Does that make sense so far?” Cassie shook her head. “Mary wears her heart on her sleeve. She craves and needs love, and this makes her vulnerable to those who’d take advantage of her.”

“And me?”

“You, Cassandra, also want and deserve love, but you temper that yearning with Egoism. You’re a cautious thinker, sometimes to a paralyzing extent. You always try to anticipate and predict outcomes. By contrast, Mary is impulsive. She believes she can navigate whatever rough seas she encounters. Does this make sense, dear?”

Cassie’s head bobbed. “So, what are you saying? Should I rely more on my heart? Should Mary rely more on her brain?”

“Actually, yes. You see, in life, we’re constantly faced with situations where we must decide what to do next. Have you heard the expression that it’s not the circumstances in our life that define us, but how we respond to them?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Cassie replied. “So, you’re suggesting I still use my head but also give more weight to my heart. Is that it?”

“And Mary would do well to dial down the volume on her heart and pay a bit more attention to the voice in her head.” Ruth paused, took another sip, and then lowered her cup with dramatic emphasis. “Cassie, you need to let Mary handle her circumstances however she must. You weren’t put on this earth solely to take care of your sister. God expects you to be independent and self-sufficient, of course, reinforced by His unwavering love and support.”

“Of course,” Cassie agreed. Seeing her aunt looking tired, her hand still twitching, she suggested, “If it’s okay, I think I need to do some laundry.” Cassie rose from the table. “Can I do a load for you?”

“No, dear. That’s kind of you, but I’m good. Think I’m gonna lie down for a while. Are we okay here?” Cassie hugged her aunt and headed downstairs. Crossing the walled-in courtyard, she stopped momentarily to gaze at the small rose garden her mother had planted.

Playing back the conversation in her head, Cassie realized that Aunt Ruth was simply saying that each person will handle life circumstances in a manner consistent with their personality. She began to see Mary in a more forgiving light. Mary was just trying to regain some degree of normalcy. That’s all, Cassie thought to herself. After years of dedication to Mom and then to Dad — and even me, maybe it’s due time for her to focus on herself.

It was all starting to make sense. Emulating her big sister once again, Cassie decided then and there to resume school. “Good, a solid decision made,” she said aloud, opening the screen door and going inside.

Secluded in the guesthouse, Cassie was cocooned in the empty bathtub, the weight of silence bearing down on her ears. Pulled tightly to her chin and offering a semblance of solace was a fluffy white quilt she had pulled from Aunt Ruth’s bed. The air carried the soothing scents of essential bath oils and feminine powders, enveloping her senses. As her gaze fell upon the terry shawl collar bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door, thoughts of its owner drifted into her mind. Aunt Ruth was in Philadelphia for “a routine medical test, nothing serious,” she had been reassured.

For nearly two years, Aunt Ruth had taken residence in the guesthouse, honoring a dying request from her best friend, Rae. If there had been any hesitation, Ed’s health, clearly in observable and quantifiable descent, made Rae’s request prescient. As if further justification was needed, Mary’s declared intention to carve out a life in Frostburg served as the final catalyst. Ed ordered a renovation of the apartment garage, post haste.

Listening to her iPod, Cassie allowed her thoughts to wander where they cared to go. She found herself once again thinking about choices. Each choice that we make is much like a single snowflake, she decided. Piled one upon the other, these decisions gradually become the collective snowdrift of a single human life. These flurries of life drama eventually melt into serpentine creeks that ultimately join other individually meaningless brooks and streams. Once converged, they become the mighty rivers that course across humanity’s generations.

“I think I am constructing a life lesson,” she said aloud. “One that I can take into adulthood, to guide me throughout my life.” Our choices influence the ebbs and flows of our, unique stream. Not every choice rises to a Pivotal Moment. But all Pivotal Moments are defined by the choices we make in the lurch. It would seem then that Pivotal Moments are themselves a cacophony of consequences, a rhapsody orchestrated from somewhere well beyond, and yet performed from somewhere surprisingly close. From within.

“Choices indeed,”Cassie heard herself faintly whisper. “The greatest self-delusion of all is to think, ’I had no choice.’ We always have a choice! Our very character is a mural of choices. No more and no less. And our choices determine the quality and value of our time here on earth. “And…” she added, “they will likely affect the quality of many other lives beyond our own.”

And with this clarity, her choice was now made. She’d attend 12^th grade and get her high school diploma. “Decision made!”