To Hell in a Coach Bag

by M. J. Schiller

  We chattered as we worked, a fluid machine after being together for so long.

  "Did you see that mom, Medusa?" I threw out. Medusa was a mom who volunteered in the lunchroom with this hair... I mean, I've never seen anything like it. It must stand out from her head a clear foot, with snake-like tendrils. And the funny thing was, it seemed like she encouraged it on the top to look even poofier.

  "Yeah, what about her?" Max asked with interest.

  "Well, I hadn't seen her from behind until yesterday. Have you seen her behind? It is literally like a shelf. It's unreal. I mean, you could set a vase on it." I had them laughing so hard they needed to back away from the worktable.

  Tears were coming out of Dani's eyes. "Oh, my gosh, Sam. I can't believe you just said that. You're going to Hell for sure."

  I shrugged. "That's where all the fun people are anyway. And besides," I added defensively, "you laughed."

  "You're right. We'll both be there. We're going straight to Hell in a hand basket."

  "More like a Coach purse for Sammy," Alex countered, sending us all into fits. And from then on, we were told we were going to Hell in a Coach bag every time we did something they considered naughty.

  "At least we'll be there together, girlfriend." I gave Dani a high-five. Then, since the time to send the food out was fast approaching, we got down to business.

  A couple of hours later, "Salisbury Steak" and mashed potatoes and gravy were ready to be transported to the junior high, and the elementary food was almost ready.

  "Whose turn is it to go to the junior high and serve?" Max asked.

  Dani came out of the back with her purse. "Mine. Anything else need to go down there?"

  "Just this." The boss lady handed her a binder. "I hope you have enough Salisbury Steak..." she wavered.

  "Don't worry. If I run out of that, I'll serve them hamburger patties and gravy," Dani said with a wink. This was her personal joke since she found out our "Salisbury Steaks" were really hamburger patties covered with gravy. "See ya, Sam. I'll miss you."

  "I know. It'll be a whole hour and a half." I put my hand to my forehead dramatically. "I don't think I'll make it." I pretended to fall apart and sob all over Dani's blue-jean jacket. She, in turn, clung to me, offering me words of encouragement.

  "Would you two cut it out for two seconds?" Maxine snapped, while trying to conceal a smile. "Sam, go open the gate and serve."

  "Yes, boss." As I walked away I started to sing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" implying she was a slave driver. Though serving without Dani was considerably less fun, we got through lunch with "Salisbury Steak" to spare and a school full of contented students. As I de-gloved, I noticed Maxine was hanging up the phone with a strange look on her face. I read the concern in her eyes. My stomach did a little roll. "What's wrong?"

  "Dani's father-in-law is here. They said to send her to the conference room the second she gets back."

  "Why would he be here? He never comes here."

  "I don't know. They wouldn't tell me. But it can't be good." She opened the back door to wait on Dani. Beyond her, the rain had finally let loose and pounded on the pavement.

  There was no good reason for Mr. Capodice to be at the school in the middle of the workday. There were a hundred bad ones. I began to clean up lunch, glancing from time-to-time out the back door, looking for Dani's car.

  Chapter 7

  Danielle

  When I left for work, storm clouds sulked on the horizon like a child left out of a game. Now, the sky let loose in torrents. That's why I knew something was wrong when, through my windshield wipers, I spotted Max standing at the door, letting the rain splash in. I yelled at her to ask her what's up when I got out of the car, but she couldn't hear me over the pounding of the rain on the pavement. Her face was tense. My heartbeat flickered as I approached her.

  "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "I don't know," she yelled back, shaking her head. "They wouldn't tell me. But Wayne's waiting for you in the conference room."

  "What?" I could hardly get enough breath to say the word. I ducked in out of the rain. "Why would he be here?"

  "I don't know. I don't," she repeated when I opened my mouth to ask again. "All I know is they want you right away."

  Oh, shit! Something happened to Tabitha. Something bad. I whipped off my coat and threw it on the table as I marched through the kitchen. Somewhere in my brain, I registered the fact that Samantha was cleaning the steam table in the front of the kitchen. I wrestled with the knot of my apron and tore it off, too, throwing it on a desk by the door as I left the kitchen. As I strode along the hall, I saw no one. No janitors, no students, no teachers. I forced myself to calm down. Logic finally found its way to my brain. If something happened to Tabitha, I would be the first to know; she was at my school. They wouldn't call Wayne in. What then? Max told me he was in the conference room, somewhere private then... a good place to deliver bad news. I didn't have long to wonder as the office wasn't far from the cafeteria.

  I entered through the back door of the office, avoiding the secretary's desk and the chance of meeting someone. Wayne was facing the other way when I spotted him through the windows of the conference room. I opened the door, and he turned. Something was grossly wrong. His face was ashen, his eyes hollow, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else than facing me with whatever was on his lips.

  "What is it?" My heart clenched. What would I hear now? How would my life be changed by his answer?

  "It's your father, honey," he said gently, tears in his eyes. He didn't stand, but drew me close by my legs.

  "My dad?" I breathed. "Is he sick? Hurt?"

  "He's... dead, Dani."

  Dead? Not hurt, or sick? Dead? "What? But how?"

  "He blew a blood clot that went to his lungs. He collapsed, and... the paramedics couldn't revive him. He never came back."

  "Oh," I said weakly. My father had been recovering from surgery. He fell down a flight of stairs carrying some boxes for a family friend and screwed up his knee. He was sixty-eight, but in outstanding health, and the surgery went beautifully. This was totally unexpected. "Those damn boxes." I moaned, clutching Wayne's head to my chest and laying my cheek on top of his head as if I was comforting him. It was so classic—Dad, hurting himself in the act of helping someone else.

  I flashed to the last time I saw him. He was helping me, too. I was backing out of my sister's driveway. She lived on a very busy street in Denver on a curve, so it was impossible to see traffic coming. Dad walked up the sidewalk to where he could see the cars. He turned back to signal me when a break appeared, and I hurriedly threw it into reverse and made my move. I honked as I drove away, glancing back in my rearview mirror at his smiling face as he began to head back down the sidewalk. How strange it was for that to be the last time I would see him, and I didn't even know it.

  I was stabbed by a new pain and moaned again. "Oh. The last time I talked to Dad I was angry with him." Wayne's eyebrows rose. I was never mad at my dad. "He called after the fact to tell me about his injury, and I scolded him for not allowing me the opportunity to pray for a successful surgery. He was always trying not to worry me." I remembered a finals week in college when he didn't call to tell me or any of my siblings his appendix ruptured. He was septic and things were pretty touch and go for a while, but we didn't know about it until all of us finished our last final. He said he didn't want to distract us from our studies. I was upset then, too, and told him I would be distracted during every other finals period for the rest of my college career, thinking maybe he was lying in a hospital somewhere, battling for his life, and he didn't call.

  Our last phone conversation, I finally let myself confront him on the one thing that bothered me about him—his not communicating things to protect us from them—and that ends up being our last conversation.

  "Oh, but, honey... He knew you loved him."

  "I know." Hot tears rolled down my face. "Oh, my gosh. I'm going to have to tell Tabby." My stomach c
hurned at the thought.

  "Yes." His voice was choked. Tabby was the light of his life. "Let's go home so you can call your brother and sisters and talk to them. Then we'll pick up Tabby from school and tell her together, if you want."

  I squeezed his hand. It was soft and weathered. "Thanks, Wayne." My throat tightened, making my voice come out strained. "You know I'm going to count on you even more now."

  "It will be my pleasure." He took my other hand and then hesitated. He seemed to want to add something more, but struggled with it. "Your father was a great man."

  It sounded so wrong to hear Daddy talked about in the past tense. Was he already part of my past? He was alive hours ago.

  Wayne was right. Dad was one of those rare people you meet in life who have that unidentifiable something people admire. He was intelligent, but would never over-speak his knowledge. Was perfectly comfortable in saying, "I'm not sure about this, but..." He was rarely angry, and while he always approached things logically, he could become emotional, too—seeing the beauty in things, or the sorrow.

  But the quality of his that stood out most was his natural empathy for others. He liked people, and he showed it in every interaction. He was genuinely interested in what they had to tell him. Complete strangers, people who he interacted with throughout the course of a day, would turn from indifferent to animated when talking to him. I'd seen it a hundred times, and it never failed to move and amaze me, his power. Could that really be gone now?

  "Yes. He was."

  His eyes roamed over my face, studying me. "Are you okay?"

  I hadn't broken down at all. It wasn't real enough. Not yet anyway. I nodded. I knew from experience even when your world is ripped apart, you can come back to being okay again, though changed. When I'd lost Darren, the floor dropped out from beneath me. But I learned how to stand again, though shakily. And, strange as it may sound, I prepared myself for this. I knew losing my dad would be one of the most painful experiences of my life, so I readied myself for it, lay awake at night imagining it and crying, letting myself feel it little by little, so it wouldn't drown me when the time came. It's odd, but I didn't know any other way I would be able to stand it. I loved him so.

  How strange death was. That a morning could start out like any other, and end in a whole different reality. That I could be serving mashed potatoes one minute, and grieving the next. That someone could vanish. No more of their jokes, no more of their advice, no more of them, their special presence in this world. Gone. Poof.

  When Darren left me, it was his touch I missed most. Falling in bed together, exhausted from work at the end of the day, and then those big, strong hands would slide over my skin, caressing me, soothing me, offering me his love without a word. With my dad, it would be his voice, both strong and gentle, commanding quiet authority, and giving tender support. When Tabitha was little, and he would read to her, I would sit on the other side of Dad and become enraptured with him all over again, like a child myself as I listened to the gentle cadence of his voice and rested in the warmth and comfort of his closeness.

  I swallowed. "I need to go talk to Maxine."

  Wayne nodded. "Where are you parked?"

  "I'm in the back."

  "I'll get my car and meet you there," he offered. "Then we'll go to your place for a while and pick up Tabby at three." I nodded and wiped the tears from my face. I didn't want to have to answer questions from anybody but my "family" in the kitchen.

  We were a family of sorts. We had our squabbles, but whenever one of us needed support, the others were there for her. When Maxine's dad suffered a massive heart attack, we helped her through it. When there was a cancer scare with Alex's daughter, we pulled together to support her. Wayne gave my arm a squeeze before I turned to go. "Take your time, Dani. I'll be out there whenever you're ready."

  He was like my scaffolding, holding me up in precarious times. He and Tabby were Darren's best gifts to me. I nodded, afraid to use my voice, and set my face to normal. I glided along the hall, and thankfully, no one approached me. When I opened the kitchen door, all eyes turned toward me. Max rushed over.

  "What is it?"

  And that's when it hit me. "My daddy died," I cried.

  "No," she blurted out in disbelief. She threw her arms around me immediately, understanding what it was like to lose a father. My shoulders crumpled, and I began to shake. I'd never see him again, hear his voice, listen to his stories... he was truly gone.

  All of the girls knew about Dad's surgery, and our phone conversation about it. And they all knew how much I idolized him. Sam and Alex gathered around and put their arms around me, too, offering their condolences. "Let's go somewhere more private," Max said, whisking me off to a back storeroom. As I passed her office, I noticed her husband in there eating lunch. With her hands on my shoulders, Max asked me what happened. I leaned against a stainless steel shelving system and told her what I knew. Someone brought in tissues.

  "What arrangements have been made?"

  "I'm not sure. Wayne is going to drive me home, and I'm going to talk to my brother and sisters."

  "If you need anything—if you need me to watch Tabby or... anything—let me know."

  "Thanks. I'll let you know, as soon as I do, what's going on."

  Wayne pulled up so close to the back door, I don't think a drop of rain hit me, although the deluge continued. It was suddenly very quiet as I closed the door and left my friends behind. Wayne didn't talk much on the way back to my place, seeming to understand instinctively my need to sort through my thoughts.

  When I got home, I rushed to call my little sister, Becca, who was closest to me in age and shared my otherworldly image of Dad.

  "Bec'?" As soon as we heard each other's voices, we started to cry. Several minutes of sobbing ensued as we both fought to control our grief.

  "I can't believe he's gone," she got out.

  "I know. I always dreaded this day."

  "Me, too."

  "At least he didn't suffer." I sighed. "You know, it would have been terrible to watch him grow old, in some respects. To see him robbed of his strength and his wits. To lose him one day at a time. I don't know if I could have stood that."

  "Yeah." Her voice was a whisper. Several second passed while each of us thought about things. "Did you know Amber found him?"

  My hand flew to my mouth for a second, my stomach dropping. "No. I didn't hear that." Amber was our big sister, and although I knew they were taking turns with Dad while he convalesced, it didn't occur to me yet to picture his final moments. I planned on going to stay with him next week over spring break to help out, but Amber and my brother, Don, lived within blocks of Dad, and Rebecca was across town. They all split up the first two weeks.

  "It was her night to stay with him."

  "Oh, geez. How's she doing?"

  "I guess it was pretty awful to be there when they were trying to resuscitate him. He complained yesterday about having difficulty breathing." Becca started to cry again. "We called the doctor's office three times, but the nurse told us the doctor was busy, and they'd get back to us. But they never did."

  I closed my eyes, my heart seizing. He knew something was wrong, even asked for help, and no one helped him. If only... oh, God, if only they'd listened, then maybe... I fought against a new sadness and a red-hot anger, but, just as quickly, let it go. None of that would bring Daddy back now.

  Becca recovered her composure. "But, Dani, you've got to get out here quickly. Daddy asked to be cremated, and in the state of Colorado, you have to do that within twenty-four hours of death."

  "What time did he...?"

  "It was like nine, nine-thirty."

  "Okay, it's one here. I'll check on flights and call you back."

  While I threw some things—hardly knowing what I was doing—into a bag, Wayne handled my tickets for me. A flight left at five, which gave me time to break my little girl's heart before I left her with her grandparents, sad and full of questions and insecurities. I didn't want
to leave her, but Wayne convinced me I could take care of things easier without her around, and she would need the reassurance of her other grandparents to help her through this. I couldn't develop any coherent arguments, so I gave in.

  It killed me on the way home from school to listen to Tabby's sunny report of her day at school—how Gracie Holiday asked her to be BFFs (Best Friends Forever), and how Tommy Nunez agreed to be her BFFN (Best Friend for Now). I guess it was good to have those things cleared up right from the start when you're in kindergarten. I gazed out the window as Wayne made small talk with her, catching my reflection in the glass and realizing I was chewing on my fingernails. I turned to look at her.

  "What's wrong, Mommy?"

  "I'm tired, honey. Did you like your Salisbury Steak today?" I deflected.

  "Yeah." She eyed me strangely, her head tilted and brows furrowed as if trying to size me up. "Why did you and Grandpa come to pick me up today?"

  I parted my lips, but didn't know what to say. I glanced at Wayne.

  "Well, sugar..." he began hesitantly, "it's because we both wanted to be with you today."

  "Hmm..." she said, seeming unconvinced. She remained quiet for the rest of the ride home, swinging her feet idly and staring out the window.

  Tabby was out of the car first and tramped into the house. Wayne stepped aside so I could pass through, lying a comforting hand on my shoulder. Tabby sat on the couch and eyed me, tapping her size four shoes on the floor. I sat on the coffee table and put my hands on her knees where the tiny uniform skirt ended.

  "Tabitha, I have to tell you something." I wasn't even sure she would understand the words when I said them.

  She nodded and peered at me. I could see the fear in her eyes, but I needed to forge ahead.

  "Grandpa Forbes died today."

  For a brief moment, she just stared, then her face collapsed. "No!" she wailed. "No! No!" She folded herself in half and sobbed. So much for not understanding. Tabby understood far too well. Her simple reaction was what had been screaming through my head all day. No. It was wrong.