Docia's Shining Star--PART ONE

Docia's hands shook as she opened the box full of precious Christmas ornaments to trim the tree. She'd been back to the doctor twice in the last month, but they couldn't seem to find the right combination of medicines and frankly, she was just exasperated with the whole thing. Ever since she'd been diagnosed with the Parkinson's, she'd kept it under her hat so as not to worry the children, and also because she wouldn't stand for their pity. She was at the point now, though, where she was constantly having to dodge questions about her shaking hands and jerky head movements. She'd told them one thing after another to get them to hush up and leave her alone. She would NOT be treated like a frail old woman, damn it all. They seemed to buy whatever weak, waterless excuses she gave them, however, and for that temporary reprieve, Docia was grateful.

Now, though, as she struggled with the decades old glass balls and fragile Victorian paper ornaments, she wondered how things would go when they all came over for her annual holiday party. Maybe she wouldn't be so lucky. Maybe they'd pin her down at the dinner table or corner her in the kitchen and force her to tell them the truth. Clarence would be okay with whatever she told him, but Martha and Trudy would definitely push the issue. Alvin had passed away several years ago from an unexpected stroke, so at least she didn't have to explain things to him, God love him. All of her grandchildren were grown and only two would be there for the party, Deborah and Cheryl, Martha's daughters. Martha's husband, Jim, was a retired Army officer and would be making his famous potato candy, while Martha would bring her favored coconut balls.

Deborah and Cheryl; now that was a story in itself. Cheryl had been the self proclaimed victim all her life. Weak as water and just about as transparent, she was. She was a top honor student all through school and into college. She was a theatre major, and was quite popular in the community. She could cook like a gourmet, sew like a professional. In fact, anything Cheryl touched turned to gold. She was so talented in so many ways. Deborah had lived in that shadow for so long, yet Cheryl had always hated her sister. She couldn't see how much Deborah adored her, how wonderful she thought Cheryl was. She'd eaten herself into a state and was quite heavy. Because of this, she alienated people by keeping her nose in her books and refusing to take part in family activities. She always seemed to be looking down her nose at people, imagining anything anyone said to her to be a slight of some sort. Docia had watched her over the years, and felt no pity for her, as others did. She'd made the decision to push people away, and she'd eventually gotten what she wanted. She'd brought so much heartache on herself, yet blamed her family for her unhappiness. She'd always been insanely jealous of Deborah, both as a child and as they grew, though Deborah had no notion of it. Docia could remember times when Deborah had come home with lumps, bruises, and bloody noses because someone had called her sister a fat cow, or some other terrible name. While Deborah had a rich social life and plenty of suitors in her teens and early twenties, Cheryl created a world where everyone was out to get her, and had become bitter, self pitying, and vengeful, though not on the surface. She had them all fooled on the surface. Everybody but Docia thought Cheryl was the absolute epitome of what a daughter should be, generous, kind to a fault, and self sacrificing. Truth told, Docia saw her for what she was. Selfish, snobbish, and self serving. Cheryl was never going to do anything for anyone unless it served her in some way. Oddly enough, Deborah was the black sheep to everyone but her own parents, who adored her. Docia loved her like nobody's business, and always took her to the side when Cheryl had been mean to her and comforted her. She'd say, "Deborah, honey, one of these days, it won't matter what she says or does and you won't have to worry about her." Deborah always smiled and said, "But, Grandma, Cheryl really is a good person, and she loves me." Unfortunately, Docia knew this to be erroneous belief on Deborah's part, but never uttered a word in argument. Deborah had always been a forgiving child, and seemed to bear living in Cheryl's shadow with a silent strength Docia admired.

Docia was sure of one thing: Deborah would take her upstairs under some false pretense of showing her something she'd bought for mother for Christmas, and she'd hunker down in that headstrong way of hers and demand that her grandmother fess up about her shaking. Deborah would swear on all things holy never to tell a living soul, and she wouldn't, if that were grandma's wish. Docia just dreaded seeing the look on her grandbaby's face when she said the word Parkinson's. It would crush her spirit, for Docia knew Deborah better than anyone. She was a strong woman, but her family was her Achilles heel.

She'd grown up and become rebellious about half way through high school, and her parents hadn't known what to do with her at times. Docia always seemed to understand, and tried to reassure Martha and Jim that some day, their headstrong daughter would come into her own. She finally did, to their great relief. Docia had kept a journal about Deborah since the day she was born, and hoped to give it to her on her thirtieth birthday, if she still drew a breath.

There was so much to do. Last minute gifts, the baking, the carpet people were supposed to be coming at noon. Docia felt like she was in a windstorm with a handful of dry leaves. Everything seemed to be getting away from her. These hands were betraying her, mocking her at every turn. She had to get everything done or the party wouldn't be what the family had come to expect over the years. Everything had to be just so. If one thing were out of place, they'd fuss over her all night long, wanting to know what was wrong with her and being suspicious of her every move. The phone lines would be burning all the way down to Georgia and everywhere in between.

Well, she couldn't be bothered with those thoughts just now. She made her way into the kitchen to start on her cookie doughs. They were nearly ready to be rolled out for baking. What she needed to do was get outside and cut some greenery for the mantels and untangle those infernal Christmas lights in the living room. As she opened the drawer for the scissors, the phone rang and the sound nearly made her jump clean out of her skin. Amos, her husband, had bought one of those phones for the hearing impaired shortly before he died three years ago, and Docia hated it. It flashed bright red lights and sounded like a foghorn, for crying out loud. Late one night, when she'd gone to the kitchen for a midnight snack, Clarence had called to check on her. You'd have thought the Titanic crashed through the wall, with all those lights and that foghorn ringer. She'd nearly had heart failure. She answered, just a bit on the testy side. When she heard Deborah's voice on the other end, she got an excited little jolt in her belly. "Deborah, how are you, honey? Is everything allright?" "Yes, Grandma, everything's fine. I just called to see how you were doing and if I could come and help with all the baking and stuff for the party. I was allowed to take my finals early so I can come home right now. I'd love to spend just a few days with you, just the two of us, it that's okay." Docia said, "Okay, well it's better than okay, honey, you just come right on down and we'll have us a good old time, just you and me. How soon will you be here? Supper?" "Supper sounds great, Grandma, I miss your cooking so much, and I miss you, Grandma, I can't wait to see you!" Deborah said.

Docia hung up the phone with a renewed energy and immediately calmed down. She knew she could count on Deborah to help her with everything. She decided some lunch and her favorite "story" would be a nice hour to spend. She didn't watch much television, but All My Children was in her veins and had been since the very first episode. She loved to hate that nasty old Erica Cane, but boy she loved her, too.