by Marci Bolden
“I don’t have the energy.”
She put the trashcan into a bigger bag and carried them both outside. She wasn’t going to try to clean the can. She’d replace it the next time they stopped for groceries. After tossing it in the can outside their spot, she put several plastic bags in the bathroom in case he got sick again. She checked the bathroom, seeing if there was any sign of mess she needed to clean, but found none. Another small win for the evening.
She dried out the shower to prevent mildew from growing, flushed the toilet to make sure there was enough water in the black water tank to break things down, then washed her hands and dried the sink. After tossing the towel into the mesh laundry bag, she stopped to pull the sheet over John’s bare backside. “I don’t need to see that.”
“Temptation too much for you?”
“Yes, the temptation to kick you square in the ass is a bit much sometimes. How are you feeling?”
“Bad. Real bad.”
“Stomach?”
He seemed to take a moment to assess his body before answering. “Everything. I’m tired. My stomach is off. My head is starting to throb.”
“I’m going to call Doctor Collins in the morning and ask if we can cut back the dosage of your anti-epileptic meds.”
He slowly rolled over, curling on his side to look at her. Even in the dim light, his face was ashen from his bout of illness. “I have no idea what you said.”
“Collins put you on a new drug to try to help your seizures. The list of severe side effects includes these symptoms. Cutting back the dosage might help.”
“What if cutting back causes more seizures?”
“We can try a different med.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she turned enough to see his face. “If things get too bad, we’re going to find a hospital and have you admitted.”
“I don’t—”
He hadn’t listened before, but she was hoping he’d listen now that he had a real taste of what was ahead.
“John, this is only the beginning,” she said. “Do you understand that? It gets worse from here. The pain gets worse. The sickness gets worse.”
“I’m prepared for that.”
“And if it gets to be too much?”
He stared at her for some time before saying, “You’ll help me.”
“John, I—”
“Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. We should get some sleep.”
Turning her focus away from him, she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you ready for this? For tomorrow?”
“I’ve been ready.”
Looking at her hands, she twisted her wedding band. “I’m not sure I am. I’ve held on to her so tightly for so long. I don’t know how to let her go.”
“We’re not letting her go. We’ll never let her go. We’re trying to find some peace. Despite all our mistakes, we both deserve some peace. Don’t you think?”
She considered his words before nodding.
Yes. They deserved peace. Both of them. Even John. Carol wasn’t nearly as convinced that spreading Katie’s ashes would help them find it.
Sitting at the table, staring at the urn she’d stared at for too many years, Carol nearly gagged as she swallowed. This was it. This was the moment their path to letting Katie go started. Wringing her hands, Carol focused on the teddy bear etched on the side. “I read an article that said we should be sure to take water and paper towels.”
John lifted his gaze from the urn and met hers. “What?”
“If the wind… The ash might stick to us. We need to be able to wash it off.”
His face lost a shade or two. “There are articles on spreading ashes?”
“A lot, actually.”
“And you read them?”
She shrugged slightly. “I like to be prepared.”
“Yes, Caroline, I know.” Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a rush. “Okay. This isn’t going to get any easier.”
“Wait.” She lifted her hands to stop him before he could take the top off the urn. “Apparently, the ash won’t be like the ash in a fireplace. It’s more like…sand. With bits of bone.” She sank back at the last part of her explanation. Tears rose in her eyes, feeling like a thousand bee stings after her sleepless night. She blinked rapidly. “I think I’ll wait outside.”
He swallowed, almost pleading with his eyes not to have to do this alone. She ignored him and left anyway. Closing her eyes as a breeze brushed her hair back, she breathed in. Out. In again. The sun was still low in the sky, and the air hadn’t taken on the unbearable heat of an Arizona summer. Where she stood now, in a gravel parking lot lacking vegetation or any of the beauty they were about to witness, seemed fitting.
The world around her was dull. However, there, on the other side, was a world where vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows would surround her. Hues that didn’t seem like nature could have made them. It was more logical that an artist, some abstract creative, had put this world together. A life-sized work of interactive art intended to make viewers appreciate how bleak their lives really were.
Standing there, she wished she had grabbed her pack to have something she could busy herself with. She wanted to make sure she had plenty of water for the two of them, John’s meds, snacks, sunscreen, and all the other things a hiker might need in the Grand Canyon.
And she had to be sure there was room for a small bottle of Katie’s ashes.
Can’t forget that.
“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered to the wind. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
As if on cue, John opened the door behind her and stepped down. He sighed that heavy sigh of his. “It’s done.”
She looked at him. “How was it?”
He shrugged. Swallowed hard. Then took three big steps, bent over, and vomited.
When he was finished, she said, “If you’re still feeling sick—”
“It’s not the meds this time.” He panted, hands still on his knees.
Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Right. Water?”
“Please.”
Heading back inside, she grabbed an extra bottle from the fridge before putting her pack over her shoulder. She paused as she glanced at the table. Leave it to John to spill sprinkles of Katie’s ash on the table and leave it there. Rolling her eyes up toward the ceiling, she laughed bitterly.
“Idiot.” Then she considered how hard it had to have been to put a scoop of his child’s remains into a container. She hadn’t even been able to stay in the RV. She’d give him this one. He had earned a pass.
Wetting a paper towel, like the article had said, she folded it over and stopped at the table. The few scattered bits of ash seemed to mock her. She couldn’t stand to leave a mess, but the messes she wiped away weren’t usually her daughter’s remains. She opened her mouth, ready to call out to John, but he’d done his part and had proven it by losing his breakfast in the parking lot.
Swallowing hard, she wiped the table down and then held the towel suspended over the trashcan. Should she throw it away? The little specs of dirt on the white surface were part of Katie. Folding it over several times, until it was a little triangle, she tucked the paper towel in a drawer. She’d decide what to do with it later.
John squinted at her as she came out with her pack over her shoulder and locked the door. She handed him the extra bottle of water and unzipped her bag.
Mentally running down her list, she touched each item. “Where’s Katie?”
He patted the thigh pocket on his cargo pants, and she opened her mouth to speak. For some reason, she felt that she should carry Katie. She had always carried Katie. John carried bags and car seats and stuffed animals, but Carol had always carried Katie. Pushing the urge from her mind, she zipped up her bag, telling herself that was the dumbest argument to start on today of all days.
She didn’t have to argue. She was picking the backpack up when John put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. Without a word, he tugged the pocket on her shorts open and slipped a small
container inside. He sealed the Velcro and met her gaze.
She offered him a small smile of thanks.
“Let’s go before it gets too hot,” he said, turning away.
They walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, as they headed toward the South Kaibab trailhead. Carol was so withdrawn into her own mind that she no longer cared about the colors, about nature’s abstract art meant to remind her to live her best life. Her best life was in a bottle in her pocket. Her best life ended long ago. Focusing on her feet, one dusty step after the next, she put all her energy into walking—and not remembering. Not thinking. Not hearing the chatter of children around her, pointing into the distance and beckoning for their parents to see the wonder as they did.
She didn’t realize they’d approached the trail until John muttered, “Wow,” beside her. Focusing on the world around her, she saw that the horizon had changed to layers of rock kissing clear blue sky in the distance. He took her hand in his, entwined their fingers, and squeezed. Her heart seemed to stop beating before picking up a hurried rhythm with a thump.
“She’d love this,” he whispered.
Carol simply nodded her agreement.
“Have you been here before?”
“Our first trip out west. Tobias was determined to stop here. I dreaded it, but once I got here, I thought the same thing. She’d love this. I could almost hear her, you know. Mommy, lookit. Lookit.”
He laughed. Then sniffed.
She didn’t look at him. Seeing him cry right now would break her. Instead, she started toward the dirt path that would lead them into the canyon. “It’s an easy hike in but coming back will be quite a bit more challenging. Let’s get going. I don’t want you to tire out before we get there.”
Hooking her thumbs in the straps of her pack, she walked ahead of him, again falling too deep into her thoughts to appreciate the scenery around them. She focused on her footing. On stepping to the side as mules passed. On keeping to the inside of the switchbacks to stay back from the edge. She didn’t give John a second thought until she stopped at a sign that said Ooh Aah Point.
This was the spot. The one they’d chosen for Katie based solely on the name. She would have liked the name. She would have giggled and said it over and over, enunciating the words differently each time until she found the one that amused her most. She would have bounced along the trail, singing the name as Carol fretted over her safety and John told her to relax. She didn’t have to think too hard for that scene to play out, though they’d never had a chance to make it real.
John stepped beside her. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his forehead.
“Okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He scanned the area before pointing to a ridge of rocks. “There.”
She let him lead the way. The path was well-worn, but her heart still picked up a few beats. She suspected it was more from the reason they were walking toward the edge than the potential danger. Taking her hand, he pulled her onto the top of a rock and then tugged her down to sit beside him. The constant wind whipped her ponytail until she tugged it loose and restyled her hair into a bun.
John barely moved. He sat staring, though she didn’t think he was seeing the canyon any more than she had on the way down. Sitting there now, finally still, she took in the scenery. The layers of rock squished together like different colors of Play-Doh. Reds and oranges and yellows that obviously hadn’t come from the same containers but had been rolled out and stacked as if they belonged together. These layers rose up to clash with the bright blue as much as they did each other.
“It really is beautiful,” she said.
“Yeah, it is. Ready?”
Reaching into her pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the container and hesitated before handing Katie to him.
“We should say something, don’t you think?” he asked.
She scanned the area around them. “She’d ask how it was made. Tell her how it was made.”
John was silent for some time, but then he pointed to the scenery, describing how the river had carved the land and exposed the layers. He explained that the various colors were different types of rocks. He said really adventurous people camped way down at the bottom or rode rafts on the water. He said she would get to see all those things because she got to stay there forever.
Then he opened the container and slowly tapped her ashes into the breeze.
“Love you, kitty cat,” he whispered into the wind as she disappeared.
Carol watched for a few moments before lowering her face and sobbing.
Seven
Carol sat in the RV, staring out at the Pacific Ocean, bracing herself for what came next. The thought of standing in the water as they spread more of Katie’s ashes made her heart race as if urging her to drive away.
Run, run, as fast as you can, it seemed to be telling her.
“Caroline?” John called from the back before she had a chance to listen to her instincts.
She pulled the key from the ignition, unbuckled, and turned her chair to more easily see him. “Yeah?”
“Where are we?”
She could have lied, but what good would that have done? She couldn’t avoid this forever. “San Francisco.”
“The beach?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He struggled to sit on the edge of the bed. He appeared significantly more tired today than yesterday. The hike at Grand Canyon followed by the long drive to the RV park in Bakersfield hadn’t helped. She’d gotten up early to make the last of the trip to San Francisco without waking him. He’d been restless the night before. She jolted every time he made a noise, which was often. She was exhausted as well, but her body was certainly holding up better. Four days into this trip felt more like years.
She suspected he’d slept as much as he could have given the circumstances. While her RV was comfortable, it wasn’t home, and it certainly wasn’t the best place for a terminally ill patient to get the rest he needed. As soon as they left the beach, she would park the RV for the night. Though it was early, their next stop was over eight hours away in Eugene. She wasn’t pushing either of them that hard.
They’d get to bed early and try to catch up on some sleep before continuing their trip up the West Coast.
She went to the fridge and collected the six pink roses she’d picked up before leaving Bakersfield. The article suggested having a visual to watch since ashes disappeared almost as soon as they touched the water.
Closing the refrigerator, she didn’t bother looking back at him. “You get…everything else and meet me outside.” She left through the side door without giving him a chance to debate. At some point she might be ready to scoop ash out of the urn and really see what was left of Katie, but this wasn’t that time. She wasn’t there yet. She might not ever be. That was okay.
As she stood on the concrete sidewalk, the crashing of the waves and salty air of the ocean came at her unfiltered. Even at this distance from the water’s edge, cool mist hit her face, clinging to her skin and hair. She imagined most people were excited by the experience. Dread spread through her like a virus as she removed the plastic wrap from the flowers and threw it away. Like at the canyon, the wind whipped her hair around until she used a band of elastic to knot it into a bun.
Moving to the waist-high cement barrier, she leaned her forearms on the rough surface and stared out at the water. Spanning the bay in the distance to her right, the Golden Gate Bridge stood sturdy and proud. Rocks jutting out into the water appeared to dare the ocean to move them. They appeared defiant. Strong. Determined.
None of the things Carol felt at the moment. She was a bit envious of the courage they portrayed. They seemed to be goading the universe to take them on when all she wanted to do was get back in her RV and go home, back to the comfort of the little spot she’d carved out for herself in the world. Only that spot wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. It was dark and lonely and a constant reminder of all she’d lost in her life.
/> If Tobias were here with her, he’d wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her head, and rock her in his gentle embrace. She’d sink back into his chest and let his warmth surround her. They’d stare out at the water, both content listening to the roar of the waves clashing with the shore. They did that wherever they traveled. Just stood together, soaking it all in.
He’d love this view. The constant ebb and flow of the waves. The smell of the salt in the damp, heavy air.
She couldn’t stomach any of it at the moment. Not when she was standing there alone without his arms to keep her safe. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned as John emerged from the RV. He tucked his hand in his pocket.
Katie’s ashes.
Carol faced the water again and a minute later, John leaned beside her.
“I didn’t mean to snap,” he said.
“I know.” Not wanting to deal with the ongoing thunderstorm between them, she pushed away from the wall.
Grabbing her elbow, he stopped her from leaving. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m on edge, too, John. I…I don’t like the water. I don’t even like taking baths, and we’re about to wade into the ocean?” She faced the RV as if it could somehow rescue her. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this.”
“Hey,” he said after a few moments. “We don’t have to. See those rocks out there?” He pointed to the sign of strength she’d been envying. “We could walk right out there.”
“If she were here, she’d be in the water, John. She’d run out there before we could even set up chairs.” She smiled, imagining Katie rushing into the waves. “She’d want to be in the ocean.”
He didn’t argue her point. “I can do this one. You stay on the beach.”
“I can do it. I just don’t like it.” Holding out her hand, she waited for him to put the small bottle into her palm, then tucked it into her pocket before walking down the stairs to the beach. She marched halfway across the dry sand before her stomach rolled. Her feet froze in place as fear overcame her determination.
“We’ll only go knee-deep,” John said, stopping beside her. Lifting his hand to cut off her protest, he reassured her, “There’s barely anyone here. Nobody will be swimming through her ashes. She’ll get washed out before that happens.”