Wondering what an online book looks like? Read on and enjoy Chapter 1 of Taking the Long Way Home.
Chapter 1
In which Lissa Hudson cries to her best friends and prepares to take a temporary leave from Washington D.C..
Summer 2010
One of the things Lissa Hudson appreciated about living in big cities was the anonymity they offered. You could walk down the streets of DC, as she was doing, and see a hundred people you would never see again. And if you would never see them again, who cared that they saw you yelling at your cell phone as a work deal fell through; cackling to yourself at a joke you heard over an hour ago; or even crying hysterically as you walked to the Metro. The key was to keep moving. Movement suggested purpose and intentionality. So Lissa Hudson was striding quickly down the sidewalk of the National Mall.
It was noon on a Tuesday in early June and she had chosen to walk this route home in hopes that the sights and sounds would distract her from feeling the feelings she did not want to feel. The patriotic monuments. The delight of numerous field trip groups taking their lunch on the grassy lawn between 7th and 9th Street, wearing brightly matching t-shirts. Their unfiltered laughter could usually put her in an optimistic mood. Not today. The sculptures and carefully landscaped park of the National Sculpture garden? With the French Metro entrance reminding her of her honeymoon in Paris? Feelings were still there.
Her blue button down was losing its crispness in the summer heat. Her work lanyard swung in time with her gait, the key card yelling out “Planned Parenthood” in bright pink letters. She had pulled her long brown hair up this morning to keep it off her neck, but could feel beads of sweat forming regardless.
Her cell phone rang and she snatched it from her work tote without breaking stride. Looking at the number first, she quickly answered.
“Caro?”
“Hey, Lis. I’ve got Hunter on conference. We got your text. What’s going on?”
Lissa stopped. Her work bag slid off her shoulder. She dropped to her knees, clutched her chest and began to cry. In the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the National Mall, Lissa cried. Thank God for anonymity.
“Oh…oh God. Guys, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Lis. Lis, what’s wrong. Is it the kids? Is it Trey?”
Lissa gasped through tears trying to capture enough breath so she could actually talk.
“No...no it’s my dad. He’s…”
Caroline and Hunter, Lissa’s two best friends since high school, waited patiently for her to finish.
“He’s got cancer. He’s...he’s dying.”
Simultaneously they broke into sympathetic offers of comfort.
“Lis - I am so sorry.”
“Ohhh, Lissa! Nooooo.”
Tear-blinded, she reached into her bag and pulled out a package of wet wipes, a staple in her mommy survival kit. She used one to blow her nose, another to dab at the mascara smudging under her eyes.
“Y’all…” she started to breathe in deeply and exhaled even more deeply. “I just don’t think I can take this. First Mom. Now Dad? I just...I can’t.”
Hunter spoke first. “Lis, this is not fair. This is just completely fucking too much for one person to handle. Your Mom and Dad...you’ll be an orphan! And you aren’t even forty!”
Caroline snorted, “Jesus, Hunt. Are you kidding me? I mean, seriously?! Orphan?”
“Oh, God, guys. I am! I’m gonna be little Orphan Annie.” And Lissa’s tears started again.
Her friends went quiet for a beat. It was Hunter who again broke the silence. In a very sincere and quiet soprano, she softly started to sing:
“The sun will come out...tomorrow. Betcha bottom dollar that tomorrow...there’ll be sun.”
Lissa was sure Caroline was about to reprimand Hunter, protective mother hen that she was. But instead, she too started serenading. Lissa sunk back onto her seat and cradled her cell phone, smiling.
“Just thinking about...tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, ‘til there’s none.”
Lissa heard Caroline take a deep breath, prepping for the bridge, and grimaced. Caroline was a notoriously loud and bad singer. She did not disappoint.
“When I’m stuck with a day...that’s gray, and lonely…I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say....”
The solo stopped abruptly.
“Sorry, David. Sorry...I’ll keep it down.” Speaking back into her headpiece, Caroline uttered, “Shit. That was my Director. Shit.”
Lissa and Hunter exploded into laughter. Collecting herself after a minute, Lissa took a deep breath.
“Laughter through tears. My favorite emotion,” she drawled in her thickest Texas accent. A favorite line from Steel Magnolias, it was part of the trio’s movie-quote shorthand.
Hunter followed more seriously, “So Lis, is it a confirmed diagnosis? What are you going to do?”
“It’s pancreatic cancer - stage 4. It’s spread all over. Dad says nothing can be done. Doctors say maybe 3 months. But how can that be right?” her voice cracked.
“My brother’s asked me to come down. His wife is due in a few weeks so he has enough of his plate already. I need to get to Dallas. I have to talk to work, I guess. But I wasn’t there for mom, I’m not going to miss being there for Dad.”
“What about Trey and the kids?”
Lissa pulled her feet into crisscross applesauce, scooting farther to the side of the sidewalk to make room for a pair of tourists.
“Trey’s too busy - he’ll never get away. I’ll just bring the kids down with me.”
She looked up and noticed a large group of sightseers headed her way.
“Guys, I’m literally sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on the Mall. I’ve gotta get home. Thanks for calling. I needed to hear your voices. Let’s talk later tonight, okay?”
“I love you, Lissa Loo.”
“Love you, too, Lissa. Hugs. And hey, hold those babies tight tonight. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks. Love you too.”
With that, she hung up the phone, plopped it back in her bag, stood up and dusted off. Lissa took one last swipe under her eyes with the wet wipe, heaved her work bag back on her shoulder and started walking.
She was out of tears for now. Her friends had her back. With every huge difficult painful thing that had been thrown her way, Lissa had learned that what she really needed was the comforting parameters of a plan. With a clear plan of action, she would be ok. So as she walked, a list of to-do’s started to take shape.
She headed south and east and by the time she was skirting the green landscaped grounds around the Capitol rotunda, she had strategized her work situation. Crossing at the light onto Pennsylvania Avenue and heading down into the heart of the Capitol Hill neighborhood, she had thought her way through the kids’ daycare situation. But then, as it often happened, she got distracted.
God, she loved Capitol Hill.
She and Trey had moved here eleven years ago from New York and it felt like home. Her ballet flats tapped a fast rhythm on the red brick sidewalk. Lissa swung into the Starbucks on the corner for her third coffee of the day. Latte in one hand and bagel in another, she turned off Pennsylvania, leaving behind its jogging strollers and suited congressional staffers, and entered the quieter green canopied side streets lined with rowhouses ; down 4th Street to the comforting site of her own home. It was grey with white trim. A welcoming bay window decorated with fading kids’ art stood beside the red brick front steps. A neon green gallon of bubble mix, half empty, and three weeks of the Sunday New York Times intended for recycling cluttered the landing.
Lissa’s mental to-do list was almost finished. She had two hours before she had to pick up Samantha and Max at preschool. She hoped she could compose herself to greet their precious faces.
Keys in one hand, coffee in the other and bagel hanging precariously from her mouth, she jiggled with the lock. It was almost open when a cab pulled up and Trey emerged. His lanky frame was not necessarily complemented by his wrinkled suit and he wore his exhaustion heavily. But when he saw her, he pulled on a sheepish smile and held out a bouquet of slightly smashed red carnations, likely picked up at a corner CVS. Lissa took the bagel out of her mouth.
“Peace?” he smiled then, turning serious, “Lis….I’m so sorry.”
Damn it! The tears started again. Trey had not been this supportive an hour ago when she first told him the news about her dad. But here he was now, late, but here. Wrinkled suit, sleepy eyes and all, he was still the boyish southern gentleman she had fallen for years ago. Wiping her eyes and spilling coffee on the doorstep in the process, she shrugged. How could she stay resentful?
“Help me get this goddamn door open?”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later Lissa was ensconced in their living room sofa, Trey next to her.
“I need to be there.”
“I get that. I do. But...I just wish there was another way. You and the kids? Texas all summer?”
Trey leaned back, hands on his head and looked at Lissa.
“I love your Dad, you know? He’s what I always wanted to be when I grew up.”
Lissa stared at her hands.
“Yeah. Me too.”
*****
One week later her to-do list was operationalized. Their two kids, Samantha and Max, were enrolled in a summer day camp in Dallas, starting in a week. The itinerary was plugged into GPS. Hotel rooms had been booked for the three travelers in Nashville and Little Rock. Suitcases, packed to bulging with swimsuits, shorts, and t-shirts, stood ready by the door. Then the departure morning came. Lissa kissed Trey goodbye and pulled out down the quiet dark morning street, towards the entrance to the SE expressway.
“Sam! Max! Say goodbye to the Capitol!” she yelled towards the backseat. She loved how the dome glowed in the morning, lit up against the dawning sky. The kids were silent, already too immersed in “Finding Nemo” to hear her, so she said her own quiet goodbyes as they crossed the 14th Street Bridge.
“Goodbye, Jefferson. Goodbye, Washington. Goodbye, Lincoln.”
Lissa merged onto the GW Parkway, not yet ready to veer away from the Potomac, and kept ticking off the list.
“Goodbye, Arlington Cemetery. Goodbye, Kennedy Center. Goodbye, Georgetown.”
Then they were on I66 and she sent up a prayer of thanks that they were traveling West, not East, as the traffic into town was already thickening, even at this hour. It was 5:30 am. She turned on the playlist of Texas nostalgia she had made for the trip and heard the opening lines of Robert Earl Keen’s “Road Goes on Forever.” But it wasn’t working for her. Not this morning. Flipping instead to a workout mix, Adam Levine started whistling “Moves Like Jagger” through her car speakers. He serenaded her all the way out of the Beltway.