He looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”
“You just can’t take the damn train, okay? Just take my Yukon instead.”
“I’m not taking your car. You need that car to take the boys to and from school. You’ve got your art class, and not to mention, you have to have a vehicle here in case of an emergency.” His voice, firm.
“No! I don’t need the car! You need the car! God, Ben, please.” Tears threatened to spill over.
“What the hell is going on, Claire? Dammit, this is getting old. You have been an emotional basket case for weeks on end, and you refuse to tell me what is going on. And now you don’t want me to ride the train? I mean, what the hell?” His face strained with frustration.
“Please just trust me, Ben. Don’t take the train…I’m begging you…” My voice thick with despair.
He paced back and forth across the floor.
“Look, Claire, I don’t have a choice in this matter. I have to take the train. I have to go to work and I have to have a way to get there. I am not taking your car. You need it here. I mean, for crying out loud, we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you had let me cut back those damned branches. I told you something like this would happen!” His voice echoing, causing the boys to stir.
My blood ran ice cold. Oh God…if I had let him cut them back…a sob escaped from me.
“I’m afraid, Ben. Please…”
Ben’s face immediately softened. He came over and kneeled down next to me. “There’s no reason to be afraid, Claire…” His tone was soft now. The heat of the argument, over.
After the surge of the storm passed, Ben called the insurance company and asked if they would cover a rental car, to appease my worry. Much to my dismay, the answer was a definitive no, and Ben refused to pay for one out of pocket. Saying it was a waste of money.
The rain was steady and soft as he called around looking for a tow truck to pick up his Honda out of the driveway. He had a lot of trouble finding someone to come out because of the holiday weekend. Finally, a guy showed up and together they pulled the limb off of the car.
As the man towed Ben’s Honda away, the boys watched from the window in complete awe.
I went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. I had finished nearly half of it by the time the tow truck had pulled away. I sipped from my wine glass, refilling it again and again.
Ben fed the boys dinner and got them in bed while I finished another glass.
By the time Ben came back, I was feeling drunk, sitting at the table. Staring off into space.
“You want me to fix you something to eat?” he offered.
I shook my head.
He sat down at table with me and I looked him in the eyes, covering his hand with mine. I half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t.
We sat together like that for a while. Neither of us saying a word.
The kitchen light reflected off of the table where we sat as the rain continued to come down outside. Small traces of thunder could still be heard in the distance.
Finally, Ben broke the silence.
“What the hell is going on with you, Claire?” His voice, unsettled by frustration. His face, worn with exhaustion.
I could feel that same exhaustion on mine. I didn’t want to fight with him anymore.
I just wanted everything to be okay again.
“I had a dream you were going to die.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him when I said it.
“Ah, honey, it was just a dream…” he said, looking at me sympathetically.
I yanked my hand away from his.
“It wasn’t just a dream, Ben. It was a warning!” I nearly shrieked.
He began shaking his head. I knew I was losing him.
“Things came to pass from this dream…” I pleaded.
“Like what?” His face, becoming agitated.
“I knew Teddy was going to run away!” My voice, shrill.
“Then, why the hell didn’t you stop it?” His eyes were glazed with anger.
“I tried. I did! But the things that are happening from the dream…they’re unstoppable. Nothing I do changes what is going to happen. It’s like it’s meant to be.” Tears slid down my face even though I was trying to hold them back.
“That’s a bunch of nonsense. I’m sorry that the dream shook you up. I really am. I hate to see you like this. But you’re not going to get me to believe that a bad dream can predict the future. You just need to calm down. I am going to be just fine. Stop worrying about it. Seriously! What’s going to kill me is the stress of worrying about you!” He laughed after he said that.
He just didn’t understand. Just like I knew he wouldn’t.
“Ben, this is serious!” I pleaded.
“Why are you trying to cause a fight, Claire? Dammit, just leave things alone. It seems like you just want to find things to worry about. How can you feel sorry for yourself if everything is going well?” His voice low and harsh, a tone I rarely heard.
His words stung, but there was a thread of truth.
I pressed my lips together, still undeterred.
“Please don’t take the train…” I asked again.
He looked at me with such an intensity, that it made me draw in a sharp breath. He was to his breaking point.
“Now, that’s enough!” His fingers were woven tightly together, making his knuckles white.
It jolted me to hear the anger in his voice.
He stood up quickly from the table.
I looked at him, and for a moment he seemed unrecognizable to me. Like someone I knew long ago. His face pursed with anger and a stubborn refusal to listen.
He looked at me like he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and went upstairs. I could hear him mumbling to himself and his footsteps in the bedroom just above me.
Suddenly, the realization dawned on me. I could lose him. Not just from an accident, but he could leave me. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of the fight. The look on his face. A look I wasn’t accustomed to seeing. A look that said that he had had enough. But I knew him better than that. He wouldn’t leave me. Would he?
I was pushing him away.
And why? Because of a dream…
A dream that I could barely remember now, but somehow had become a part of me.
When I finally went upstairs, the lights in the bedroom were off, and I could see he was already in the bed. I put on pajamas and slipped in beside him. Quietly, as not to wake him, but as soon as I settled in my spot, he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I don’t know why I was so harsh with you. I just get frustrated sometimes with the hocus pocus stuff. You know how I am. Especially after what happened with my dad. I just don’t buy into that stuff.” His voice was choked with sleep.
“I understand. I’m sorry too. I just wish you believed me,” I whispered.
I listened in the silence for his response, but he was already sleeping again.
He was unreachable to me now. Inches away, but it might as well have been miles.
I laid on my back staring at the dark ceiling, listening to the rain falling, sputtering and spattering against the window pane.
When I finally fell asleep, the rain had stopped, and the only sound was the occasional creak and splash as water dripped from the gutters.
Chapter 19
May 30th
The next morning, I drifted silently down the stairs, the world around me unsettled. I slipped out the front door to get a look. I wanted to face the catalyst that had cemented my fate.
The door clicked shut behind me as I walked out onto the porch.
Everything was still damp with leftover rain. Water droplets pooled on bushes and blades of grass with the occasional splashing dripping from the roof. The sky was dusted in a hazy mist, as I stared out at the fallen limb.
A chorus of bird songs surrounded me as I closed my eyes, the limb looming in front of me, foreboding.
When I opened them again, my eyes were on the now empty spot in the driveway.
My heart in turmoil.
Despite everything, the dream was having its way with my life. Nothing I had done or not done had made any difference at all.
No matter how careful I had been.
No matter how desperately I had hoped.
No matter how hard I had tried to believe that all of this was just a result of my over-zealous imagination.
Nothing changed the events…they just kept unfolding and leaving me a powerless spectator.
And now the final act was upon me.
When I came back inside, Ben met me at the door.
“Good morning!” he said as he took my hand. Relief flooded over me. Nothing had changed between us. He was still mine.
I didn’t respond, only nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. Not wanting to argue again.
Not when so little time was left.
He kissed my cheek, softly.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he whispered. His breath warm on my neck. His body close to mine.
“I’m sorry too…” I stopped myself from saying more. The words were bubbling up and I pushed them down.
He put his lips on mine. The warmth of love and desperate longing, mingled together in an abundant cocktail and spread throughout my entire body.
“Your mom called while you were outside,” he said, walking away and taking a seat at the table in front of his laptop.
“What did she want?” I asked.
“She didn’t say. Just said for you to call.” Ben’s eyes already on the screen in front of him, giving him a soft glow.
I walked into the living room to check on the boys. They were still in pajamas, watching The Disney Channel. I’d let it slide and not make them get dressed just yet.
I’d call my mom back first, while it was still quiet in the house.
I dialed her number and the phone rang and rang, no one answering. Her voicemail came on and I hung up, repeating the sequence.
Strange, Ben said she had just called. Why wasn’t she answering?
Coupling it with her strange behavior yesterday, darts of panic lit inside of me.
Something wasn’t right and I knew it.
I looked over at Ben, still working at his computer. “I am going to go run and check on my mom.” He quickly looked up. “Want me to go with you?”
“No, I won’t be gone long,” I answered. Panic prickling at the back of my neck.
Ben got up and walked over to me. “Is everything okay?”
I stifled the words; everything was NOT okay. And it wasn’t going to be okay. Not now! Why can’t you just not take the damn train? Is it really that hard?
Instead I looked at him and smiled weakly. “She’s just been acting weird, and she didn’t answer the phone just now.”
Ben laughed. “Stop worrying so much, Claire! I am sure she’s fine. Why don’t you just wait and try again in a little bit?”
As he walked back over and sat down at his computer, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
I turned onto Evergreen Street and passed by two morning joggers, waving enthusiastically. I didn’t wave back; my eyes were on the driveway, just ahead.
I pulled in and parked next to my mom’s white Volkswagen Passat with a bumper sticker that read: Grandma Life.
I got out of the car and walked up onto the porch as the breeze flowed through two potted hibiscus trees covered in vibrant coral flowers flanking the front door, one on each side.
I was surprised to see them there.
Mom had always had lots of plants around the house when I was young. She spent hours in the mulch beds, working on her hydrangeas, lilies and other plants. There was even talk of her putting up a greenhouse in the backyard. But after Dad left, that all changed. All her plants died and were never replaced. It seemed, as if even plants reminded her of what she had lost.
Reaching out, I touched one of the coral petals. Silky soft and moist under my fingertips.
I reached up and knocked softly on the door.
When she didn’t answer, I knocked again.
When she still didn’t answer, I knocked vigorously.
And when she still didn’t answer, my body filled with adrenaline.
I had to get inside!
She didn’t answer the phone.
She didn’t answer the door.
And her car was in the driveway…
I ran back to my car, grabbing the spare key to her house.
Back up on the porch, I put the key in the lock and twisted until it clicked.
Tentatively, I walked inside. The shades were drawn, giving everything a shadowy appearance.
The house had the faint odor of cigar smoke. Something I hadn’t smelled since I was a little girl.
I could still see my dad now, sitting in his recliner, newspaper in hand, cigar in his mouth. He quit smoking them years ago, but the smell of it still reminded me of him.
“Mom?” I called out into the darkness of the house.
She didn’t answer.
I walked into the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes, as if she had cooked a big meal.
Who would she be cooking for?
On the counter was a wine bottle, completely empty of its contents.
A Chardonnay.
Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe she had started drinking heavily.
That would explain her strange behavior. But it didn’t explain where she was.
I walked through the dim lighting of the living room and stopped suddenly.
Soft music drifted in from the hallway where the bedrooms were.
“Mom?” I called out again, a little louder.
But there was still no response.
With my heart beating in my ears, I walked to her bedroom door. The music becoming louder as I approached.
As I knocked, I was met with a shuffling sound from behind the closed door.
Suddenly there was a loud thud, followed by quick footsteps.
Rationality went out the window, as visions of her being attacked flooded my mind. I flung open the door and saw my mom standing in the middle of the room, completely naked. And a man with his back to me was trying to cover himself with the quilt from the bed.
Mom and I both gasped at the same time.
The music that had been coming from an old record player was now skipping.
“What is going on here?” I shouted.
Mom didn’t answer, still scrambling, trying to find something to cover up with.
I looked over at the man. His back was still to me.
But even in the dim lighting, I sensed something familiar about him. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I stepped all the way into the room.
“I said, what is going on here!” My voice shrill, demanding.
Mom scooted past me and grabbed her robe from the bathroom door as I flipped on the light switch to see the man better.
He turned around and faced me, and the world became swirly.
“Dad?!” I called out in shock.
I whipped back around and looked at Mom fastening the belt around her robe.
“How dare you barge into my house, like this.” Her voice thick with anger.
I stepped backwards, feeling dirty, as the realization of what had just happened dawned on me.
I just caught my parents doing it.
“What the hell, Mom?” I looked past her, suddenly unable to look at her face.
Dad spoke up, “Why don’t you let us get dressed and then we can talk. Go wait in the living room and we’ll be right out.”
>
I couldn’t respond. What could I say?
Quietly, I stepped out of the room as they closed the door. Their whispers trailing behind me as I walked away.
I went into the living room, trying desperately to delete the image of my parents’ naked bodies from my mind. I had a feeling that image was going to stick there for a while, and I shuddered.
Nervously, I sat down on the couch.
A few seconds later, I moved to the arm chair.
And then to the recliner.
I couldn’t find a comfortable place to sit.
After several long minutes, they emerged from the bedroom, holding hands.
They sat together on the couch, side by side, staring at me. Bringing me right back to childhood, waiting for a lecture from my parents. I glanced at the front door, wondering if I should just run out.
Mom was the first to speak up. “You have a lot of nerve to bust in my house like this…”
Dad looked at her with pleading eyes. “Let’s not make this a war with her.”
He looked back over at me. “Claire, we were going to tell you kids about us, but your mom wanted to give it some time to see how things went first. Then, we kind of enjoyed the sneaking around. Made us feel young again. So, we decided to wait just a little bit longer before we spilled the beans.”
“Spilled the beans…about what?” I said, feeling defiant.
“We are getting back together.” My mom glared at me, ready to fight.
“What? Why?” I stammered.
Dad laughed a little. “It might be hard for you to understand, but I have always loved your mother.” He looked over at her and smiled gently. “I made a terrible mistake when I left, and I have regretted it every day since it happened. All I want to do is be with her. Every day for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah, I’m sure! The real reason that you regretted is because that girl left you in the dust!” I scoffed.
“She wasn’t right for me, Claire. Just because someone makes a mistake doesn’t make them unworthy of love. I know you’re angry and you have every right to be. But you also need to respect your mother’s wishes about reconciliation with me. I hope in time that you will be able to forgive me for hurting you girls and your mother.”
The Moments Between Page 19