Chapter 25: Mother-Daughter Issues

On the evening after calling Deirdre, after spending another hour on the internet and reviewing resort hotels, Maureen sent an e-mail to her daughter with a proposed plan. She had a flight to San Francisco on the 21st and she would spend the night in an airport hotel. On Saturday the 22nd, she'd drive up north and pick up Deirdre in Eureka before heading to The Bellweather Inn which was located on the Redwood Coast. They would stay until January 2 before they would head back to Eureka. Maureen suggested to make an appointment with the therapist for Januray 3rd. Maureen crossed her fingers after she pressed the "Send" button.

Deirdre answered before the next morning and when Maureen got up and fired up her laptop there was the reply. Yes to everything in short. Carla was still sleeping and Maureen confirmed the flight reservations and the hotel booking.

The next thing Maureen did was sneaky. The P.I. had provided her with contact information for Deirdre's room mate including a cell phone number. She also knew that the girl, Claire Ingram, was a business major and not likely to be with Deirdre during the day. She was lucky when she called the young woman in the early afternoon.

"Ingram," she heard.

"Claire Ingram? This is Maureen Darling. I am Deirdre's mother. Please excuse me if I call you out of the blue but I need your advice. Do you have a minute?"

"Yes?" the voice was guarded. "Deirdre said you called her."

"Yes, I will come to California over the holidays to see Deirdre. I have a reason for calling. You have to know that Deirdre has not accepted a dime from me for over two years. I know she must be really short on money and other things. I just want to ask if you know what her greatest wish is."

"Gee, Mrs. Darling, you're right. She's not flush with money. She has jobs to keep her afloat and she has a fellowship, but she barely breaks even."

"Then there has to be something that she wants or needs and cannot afford."

"Well, she's got this very old laptop, I think it's an old Powerbook, one of the black ones like Carrie Bradshaw had or even older. It doesn't run the software she needs very well and she bitches a lot about the time it takes to run the calculations."

Maureen groaned inwardly. That Powerbook had been obsolete even when Deirdre bought it four years ago.

"Well, we can't have that," she answered brightly, relieved to have a clue already. "What brand do you think she wants?"

"Oh, she's a Mac nut. A Dell would never fly with her."

"Okay, I can do that. Don't let her know about my call, please. Thank you very much!"

"Umh, Ms. Darling, please don't be hard on Deirdre. She's still hurting so much. She told me everything so I know what it's about."

"Yes, I know. That's one purpose of my visit to get her all the help she needs. Thank you for being her friend all those years."

"That was easy: I like her a lot. Will that be all? I need to go to class."

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course. Thank you again and have a Merry Christmas."

When the connection broke Maureen left her office to visit Derek Jacobsen, a fellow ADA in the office and the resident evangelist for the Cult of Apple. He had talked her into getting her new phone, and so far she could not complain.

"Hi Derek. Listen, I want to buy my daughter a laptop for Christmas and she's a Mac person. Is there something I need to know?"

Was there ever! When Maureen left Derek's office an hour later he had helped her configure a laptop he thought was appropriate for a post-graduate student. He had dismissed the consumer series MacBooks and advised on a Pro series model. Maureen was to buy the basic midrange model and Derek would install more RAM and a larger hard drive for her. It was cheaper that way he argued, and the OEM hard drive – whatever that was – could be used for backups. Derek was very helpful but Maureen was still grateful when she finally escaped his flood of well meant advice.

There was an Apple Store on Suburban Square and she found an alert young woman who helped her with the purchase. Since Derek had specified the model, Maureen was able to leave the store just fifteen minutes later with a dent in her credit card and an expensive piece of hardware in her shopping bag. She had also found a stylish satchel bag to go along with the laptop and she drove home feeling smug.

"Do you need assistance with your child, Ma'am?" the woman at check-in asked.

The question was not far-fetched as Maureen had to admit. She was carrying three bags, one for her own needs, the diaper bag for Carla, and the laptop satchel while pushing the foldable stroller with Carla.

"That would be helpful, yes. I've never travelled with my daughter before. It's a bit daunting."

"Somebody will assist you with boarding, Mrs. Darling. Will you be all right getting to the gate?"

Maureen nodded. The diaper bag could be attached to the stroller and the other two bags were manageable. Or so she thought. Security turned out to be a nightmare. Loading everything on the conveyor, unpacking the laptop for inspection, and getting Carla out of the stroller made her wish for three or four additional hands. In addition Carla began to fuss getting it in her head just then that she wanted to walk by herself.

The gum chewing woman in the blue pant suit was not sympathetic at all. She made Maureen unpack the diaper bag for inspection and then wanted to see her shoes, too. Maureen suspected that she enjoyed the harassment of this well-to-do woman who had to juggle three bags, one stroller and a struggling two-year-old. Maureen was about to snap when she remembered an old trick and cooled it. Taking her time she talked to Carla and calmed her down. She untied her shoes one at a time. She smiled serenely at the inspector as she took her sweet time to put the shoes back on, still talking to Carla.

"You want to move on, Lady," the inspector finally snapped at her.

"In a moment," Maureen answered with another serene smile. "You don't want me to go barefoot, do you?"

In the end the inspector helped her to reassemble her bags and stroller just to get her moving. At the gate an airline representative helped her with boarding. Still, Maureen leaned back with a relieved sigh once every bit of luggage was stowed away.

A moment later Maureen had to get up again to allow another mother with child enter the seat row. The woman was red-faced, sweaty and seething with anger. She had an infant with her of less than a year and she was grateful when Maureen offered to hold the baby until she could stow away her bags. With a sigh not unlike Maureen's the woman dropped into the seat and retrieved her baby.

"I'm gonna complain this time," the woman seethed. "That Nazi cow at security, I swear she enjoyed putting me through the paces. She had me unpack every bottle of ointment and Billy cried all the time."

"I had her, too," Maureen commiserated. "She even had me take off my shoes. I just took my time. In the end she even had to help me just to get the line moving again."

"I was so close to slapping her!" the woman fumed.

"Not good," Maureen said lightly. "You have to play it cool with those people. They have so much powers these days, and it's just not worth it to fight them. I'm Maureen Darling, by the way."

"Miranda Saunders," the woman answered. "Are you from Philly?"

"Yes, I'm spending the holidays with my older daughter in Northern California. She goes to college there."

The woman stared at Maureen incredulously. "Is she some sort of prodigy?"

"No, I had her when I was twenty," Maureen explained.

"Oh, her first Christmas away from home."

Maureen shook her head with a wry smile. "She's a Senior. I'm forty-one."

"Damn, there goes my self-esteem. I had you pegged at thirty-five, max."

Maureen was not immune against flattery, and soon the two women were engaged in a lively conversation. Miranda Saunders was an attorney too, working at the Treasury. She was visiting her parents in Monterey over the holidays. She was guarded about her marital status and Maureen did not press. She hinted at her own orientation but did not flaunt it overly.

She picked up good vibes from Miranda who obviously was not prejudiced against lesbian women to say the least. They continued to talk all through the flight and when they exited the plane and waited for their luggage they even exchanged phone numbers. It felt good to Maureen to be attractive to a much younger woman. She'd had dinner twice with Numi N'Gomo in the last two weeks. She felt there was something, a spark, between them, but she could use all the flattery and buttering up to sooth her still rather bruised ego.

A shuttle picked up Maureen and Carla and brought them to the hotel. Carla was fussy now and Maureen spent the rest of the evening playing with her and reading to her until she fell asleep.

On the next morning, the rental car was waiting for her with the child's seat she had specified. It was a Jeep Cherokee and it took a while for Maureen to get accustomed to the size and weight of this car. The navigation system was up to date, though, and it piloted Maureen out of San Francisco and northward. She drove along Route 101 but it took her almost six hours to arrive in Eureka. Up to this point Maureen had been calm but once the navigation system took her through the last turns and intersections she felt sweat on her palms.

She found the dormitory without problems and parked in a visitor parking lot. Gathering Carla, the diaper bag, and the new laptop satchel Maureen walked to the entrance and looked at the directory. Thankfully, there was an elevator that took her to the second floor. Again Maureen had to get her bearings. Apartment 2.07 was to the right. With her heart beating all the way up in her throat Maureen pressed the bell button and held her breath.

"Mom!"

Whatever doubts and fears Maureen had held evaporated in the violent hug Deirdre gave her. Carla was startled and started to whimper a little causing Deirdre to let go and step back. Now Maureen would have been able to look at Deirdre but her eyes were too misted up to see clearly.

"Hello, Carla," she heard Deirdre coo.

Blinking a few times Maureen was able to clear her vision. There was Deirdre, tall, slender and almost unchanged. Maureen reached out and touched her daughter's cheek.

"Baby," was all she could say.

Deirdre leaned into the touch and sighed deeply. "You look great, Mom."

"So do you, Baby. You're still my pretty girl."

"You wanna come in and fresh up or should we go?"

"If you don't mind I'd like to see your room, Deirdre."

"Oh, okay, come in. Watch that shoe rack."

The room was not too small, perhaps 15 by 12 feet, and there were two beds. One was loaded with two bags. On the other bed a young woman was sitting who got up hastily.

"Hi, Ms. Darling, I'm Claire Ingram."

"Hi, Claire. It's nice to meet you. This is Carla, my younger daughter."

"Oh, hey, you're a sweety," Claire cooed poking Carla's belly playfully.

Carla giggled dutifully and Claire went into full "Uh-uh-da-da" mode. Maureen put Carla on her feet sighing with relief and looked around. On Claire's side the room was appointed with some decoration and a few items such as movie posters and a flat screen TV/DVD combo. Deirdre's side was spartan by contrast. Maureen looked at Deirdre's clothes and blushed pink seeing the threadbare sweater over faded blue jeans. She pointed a finger at her daughter.

"We'll stop on the way to get you some new clothes."

Deirdre smirked. "Do I have a say in this?"

Maureen shook her head. "No. I want to spend the holidays with my pretty daughter and not with a bag lady. If you have more of those rags in your bag put them back in your wardrobe. Pick whatever you want but I want you to have new clothes."

Deirdre shrugged. "Okay, I guess. You won't hear me complaining."

She opened the duffel bag she had packed and Maureen was dismayed at how little Deirdre had packed for the ten-day trip. She sighed.

"We had better get moving. We have two hours to drive and at least as much to get you some decent clothes."

Deirdre showed some irritation. "Mom, you know that I don't put much store in clothes."

"Then do it for me," Maureen answered. "I feel terrible right now seeing you in those ragged clothes. It's like I'm the evil stepmother who won't even give you something to dress in."

"Okay," Deirdre sighed. "If you feel strongly about it then let's do it. No dresses though and nothing neat. Just two or three blue jeans and maybe a nice sweater or two."

"Fair enough. Pick some new boots, too. Now, shall we go? Claire, it has been a pleasure meeting you. Oh, I brought something for you."

Maureen held out a small parcel to the young woman. Claire was surprised, but she took the gift and smiled.

"Thank you, Ms. Darling. Should I unwrap it now?"

"No, no, wait until Christmas. It's just a small token of gratitude."

Deirdre's eyebrows shot up when she heard that, and Maureen explained. "Claire was kind enough to give me some information I needed. You will see on Christmas morning." Seeing Deirdre's smile she understood. "Oh, I see. Well, Claire is your friend. Here, take it! This way I don't have to carry it around all the time."

Maureen held out the navy blue satchel and Deidre took it by the shoulder strap. She hesitated.

"Oh, open the damned bag already! It's for your work mostly."

Deirdre pulled at the flap and the Velcro strips ripped open.

"The Pro? The 15-inch? Mom, that's too much! That's ... thank you! This will help me so much!" Impulsively, Deirdre stepped close and gave Maureen a crushing hug. "I need to bring my old one along to transfer my files and my software. Oh, better just the backup disk. Lemme see, yes, here's the Firewire cable. Oh, Mom, this is really great."

Maureen basked in Deirdre's obvious joy and she cast another grateful glance at Claire who smiled back. It took another twenty minutes for Deirdre to collect whatever she needed. It was refreshingly like Deirdre that her book bag was heavier than the duffle that held her clothes. In the end, they all sat in the Cherokee and Claire was waving from the steps of the dorm.

Maureen left the curb and navigated out of the campus to find Route 101 again. In a strip mall along the highway they found a jeans shop that had Lee jeans, Deirdre's favorites. Maureen sent her daughter in with $500 and the strict order to spend them. Deirdre came back not thirty minutes later with a load of shopping bags and wearing a new, burgundy knit sweater. A sporting goods store was raided next and Deidre emerged wearing a brand-new pair of Lowa Air trekking boots. Another pair of Lowa hiking shoes was in the shopping bag, together with Deirdre's old boots. Satisfied that her daughter had at least new clothes Maureen started the Jeep and headed north.

Deirdre spend the first half hour leaning over the back rest and playing with her half-sister. When she turned around again she looked at Maureen quizzically.

"Why 'Carla'?" she asked.

"You really don't know?" Maureen asked, slightly surprised.

"No."

"She's named after Joey's mother," Maureen answered. "Joey asked and I certainly did not plan to name her Ethel after my mother. Her last name is Di Rosa, too. I mean, you and I, we both had to listen to those lame 'Darling'-jokes all our lives. I wanted to spare Carla that aggravation."

Deirdre just nodded. "I didn't know the first name of Joey's mother. He did not talk of her much. I guess the wound was too fresh back then." She had the quizzical frown on her face again. "Speaking of paternal last names, can you finally tell me who my father is or was? I mean I'm twenty-one. Shouldn't I know who contributed to my genome?"

Maureen's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "I didn't see that one coming," she temporized.

"I know, that's why I fired it when you couldn't duck. Really, Mom, this is not about judging you or something. Don't you think I have the right to know?"

Maureen stared straight ahead, trying to marshal her thoughts and emotions. "I guess you have. I never told you because it was one of the most hurtful experiences in my youth."

"Mom, were you raped?" Deirdre's tone showed panic.

"Almost. Oh, damn, I guess I was. I was in college. It was early in my Junior year. I was a lot like you now then, living on a small fellowship and working on the side. Wearing worn-out jeans and hand-knitted sweaters. I was an outcast mostly. People knew about my orientation. The guys saw no percentage in talking to me and the girls were afraid that my being a lesbian might rub off on them.