Silent grief engulfed the three of them for several moments, and then Sarah, staring into nothingness, spoke. “I came back from college. Mum was in the kitchen crying, just barely crying. She looked at me with angry, sad, desperate eyes, and said, ‘You know, don’t you?’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘What are you talking about?’ I said. Mum looked at me, with one tear going down her cheek and … she said, ‘You know. Tell me what you know.’ I said, ‘I don’t know anything, Mom. I really don’t.’ Her eyes were demanding, so desperate. I had to tell her the truth – that we’d seen the kombi night at that bitch’s house. That was what I told her.” Sarah stopped for a moment and laid her head on Lisa’s shoulder. She continued, “She stopped crying. Then, all of a sudden, she threw her cup across the kitchen floor. I told her she could leave Dad. I told her she should just leave. She only laughed and said, ‘No. It will be like the other times. He will come back, sorry and repentant. Then he’ll be fine for the next few years. Maybe this will be the last time. I love him … we love him too much.’ After she said that, she smiled and winked at me and said, ‘Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.’ Why did she say that? Why? She went to her bedroom for a lie down, and I started my homework. That’s when you came home and begged me to take you to Emma’s … told me that you were supposed to stay the night with her. Mum seemed okay. I thought she was okay.
“After I dropped you off, I went to Cindy’s. I shouldn’t have gone there. I don’t know why I did. I should have just come home. She’d be alive if I had! God! She’d be alive!”
Lisa grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled it into her lap.
Sarah’s voice trembled as she continued. “I was gone an hour, an hour and a half maybe. I don’t know. I came home. I thought she was just in the bathroom. I thought she was taking a bath. I finally knocked. She didn’t answer. I got a knife to pry the lock open. It was the old paring knife, the one with the yellow handle, the one that’s already got a bent tip, so I knew she wouldn’t mind if I used that one. I knew that one would be okay. She wouldn’t get mad. That’s why I used that one.”
Lisa nestled her head in Sarah’s bosom and spoke as one would to a bewildered puppy. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We know enough. We know you did everything you could.”
“There she was. There was blood everywhere. Everywhere! Both wrists. She cut both wrists, Lisa. Why? Why did she do that? And an empty bottle of pills, her goddamn valium. The bottle was floating in the toilet. Why would she want to die? Why did she do that to us? I hate her. I hate for that. She had no right to leave us. Doesn’t she know what she’s done? Doesn’t she know?”
“No she doesn’t. And I don’t want her to know,” Lisa said defiantly. Then she choked with sobs. “I should have stayed home. It’s my fault, Sarah. I should have stayed home. I shouldn’t have made you take me to Emma’s house.”
“It’s not your fault, Lisa. I should never have left. I knew she was upset, and I left anyway. I have to live with that.”
Chad spoke with controlled irritation. “It’s your dad. It is your dad who did what he did. He treated your mom like shit. He created this. How can either of you blame yourself when he—”
Both Lisa’s and Sarah’s eyes pierced Chad with looks of disgust, almost hatred. He did not understand their censorship. They needed to blame the guilty one, not wallow in self-imposed guilt and blame someone who was not here.
Sarah spoke with anger, “Mom knew what Dad was like. She knew, and she chose to put up with it. She could have left him ages ago, years ago.”
Lisa added. “She put up with it before. She didn’t have to kill herself over it this time.”
Chad did not say anything more. He simply listened. However, he remained puzzled as to how they could defend such a father and husband. He concluded it was due to the reality that Johan was now the only parent they had. That thought triggered a sense of dread deep in his gut.
CHAPTER 36
Until Death Do Us Part
What do you say at the funeral of someone who takes their own life? How do you comfort those dealing with such a cruel, definitive act of desperation, if not defiance? How do you celebrate the life of one so desperate, so sad, so angry, so hopeless?
Peter hated that Johan had asked him to speak at the funeral, but he did not have the courage to say no. For four days, he pondered what to say and how to say it.
He looked for solace in his own soul and found none; he had no comfort to offer a grieving congregation, no words to console this family he loved so much. Why did they ask me? Why not Chad? Why not Simon? Why did she kill herself?
“Susan. She was one of the first persons I met when I came to South Africa last September. I came not knowing what I was doing in this foreign land. I arrived here scared, wondering if I’d made a foolish mistake. It was Susan who welcomed me. She greeted me with a quick peck on the cheek.” Peter glanced up. “That friendly kiss shocked me. We don’t do that in America ... not ever.” He looked back at his notes and continued. “It was Susan’s greeting that told me I was in the right place. It was her encouragement, her concern, her belief in me that helped me feel so much at home here. For her love and her caring heart, I will be forever grateful.” Peter paused, he surveyed the crowd of mourners. He saw tearful faces, bewildered faces, and angry faces. He went back to his notes.
“Susan was a wonderful mother, a devoted wife, a sure friend …” He stopped. He felt awkward, embarrassed. Then a tinge of anxiety grabbed his gut; he imagined himself bursting into tears and running out the back passage of the church. After filling his lungs with air, he looked again at the sea of faces – faces full of questions, full of pain. He crumpled his notes. “Susan was just … she was at times one of the happiest women I have ever met, but at other times, she was one of the saddest people I’ve known. I don’t understand the demons she spent her adult life warring against. I don’t understand that. I wish I could. But one thing I do know is that she is angry with herself for … for what she did. I know she regrets it with her entire soul and spirit. I know she would do anything possible to take back that awful moment. But she cannot. And we cannot. I want to be angry with her because I miss her. I know you feel the same.”
Peter then looked at her three survivors. “I know I can’t understand how you all feel. But don’t be angry – angry with your mom, your wife. Don’t be angry with yourselves. She would not want that. Forgive her and forgive yourselves. And … well, live in the light of all the wonderful and glorious days you had with her. Live in the light of all the love and goodness she brought to your lives. Live in the light of all that her beautiful, yet pained life has given you. She deserves that. As her husband and her daughters who loved her, you deserve that. That is what she wants for you.”
When Peter sat down, he avoided looking at the black attired congregation. He was sure he had made a fool of himself. He was not even sure what had come out of his mouth. He did not want to know. Whatever it was, he was sure he had brought no comfort. I just hope I didn’t make things worse, he thought.
***
They stood watching the never-ending line of grievers greet Johan and his daughters, all with the grimaced smile that funerals require. Chad leaned over and whispered to Peter, “Good job. That was good.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, it was just right, Peter. It was. You surprised me.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Peter had caught Cindy’s eye after she had given Sarah and Lisa prolonged hugs. “Hey, I gotta go.”
Peter approached Cindy and stood silently in front of her. Everything he thought about saying was ridiculously inappropriate. Cindy finally took the initiative. “This is so hard. I still can’t believe it, and I don’t think I ever well. You did fine … you did ... well, it was good.”
“I had no idea what I was saying up there, and I’m sure it was lame. What can you say when something like this happens?”
“No, it was very good, Peter. I appreciated what you said,
and Sarah did too. She was surprised.”
Damn! That word again? “So you really go to Rhodesia tomorrow?”
Cindy nodded.
“How long? How long will you be there?”
“Six weeks, probably more, depending on how much my aunt needs me.”
“Cindy, I wish we had had some time together. I miss you. I’m so sorry I was such an ass. I … I, um …”
“I missed you, too, but it’s for the best, right?”
“I don’t think so, but I didn’t have a choice.” Peter looked at her green eyes, wearied by tears. His eyes rested on her red hair; he wanted to touch it, feel it. He longed to embrace her. “I need you, Cindy. God, I miss you. ”
“You need me, but you couldn’t love me. It has been for the best, Peter. You’ll be in the States before I get back, so we better say goodbye now.” Cindy leaned over, kissed Peter on the cheek, and then gave a hesitant embrace.
Peter wanted that embrace to linger. He began to tighten his grip around her body, and she stepped back. He caught her hand and held it. “I’m so sorry. I was so wrong. I never wanted to—”
She pulled her hand away.
Peter continued, “I hope it goes well in Rhodesia. I still don’t think you should go. I really don’t. It’s just not safe there, and—”
“It will be great, and I’ll be fine. Goodbye, Peter. Have a safe trip home.” Then she turned and walked away.
Peter watched his best friend walk out of his life. Anger churned inside his gut. He was furious that he could not give her what she needed and incensed that he had been so afraid to let himself love her. Now it was too late.
CHAPTER 37
Tensions At Home
With Themba gone for the weekend, dirty dishes sat on the table, and encrusted pot and pans waited in the kitchen. Simon brought in his cat-shaped teapot with brewing tea, along with some cheese and crackers. “It’s time we talk.”
Peter rolled his eyes and Chad shrugged his shoulders. Both squirmed in their chairs like schoolboys sitting outside the principal’s office.
The atmosphere in Simon’s home had been somber since Susan’s death three weeks earlier. Indeed, the events of 1977 had been so traumatic, so overwhelming, that each had felt their heads and hearts were in danger of spinning out of control. As well, Peter and Chad had long been dreading the day another summons to Pretoria would arrive and announce, “Your applications have been denied. You are to leave immediately.”
Simon took a sip of tea. “It is time we talked … about Susan. Her death has been a blow to us all, but I believe it both helpful and necessary to talk of such things, to give our emotions words.”
Chad said, “Simon, no. Not now.” He shook his head, took a breath, leaned back in his chair, and spoke with a pensive tone, “You know what I don’t understand? How can a person kill themselves? I mean, how can somebody get to the point where they're so miserable they just want to give up and die? How could Susan do that? Simon, tell me. Make sense of it for me.”
“I can tell you,” Peter began, as Simon was still gathering his thoughts. “We’ve all been depressed, down, or felt sorry for ourselves. Everyone gets fed up and overwhelmed at times. You know, when you felt so sad you could hardly stand it. That’s just part of being human. But, for some, it’s just worse, a lot worse.”
“But why?” Chad prodded.
“When you get – I don’t know – real depression, like clinical depression, it’s different. That’s a depth of depression people just don’t understand. You can’t, unless you’ve been through it. It’s evil, inhumane. It haunts you, taunts you day and night, telling you that everything is wrong and you’re worthless, and everything is hopeless. You can’t shake something like that off. And if you haven’t experienced it – well, you can’t understand. You just can’t. I have been through it – a few times. It’s like falling down an endless abyss – a black, hopeless hole. You’re in this abyss and you begin to think, you … you begin to believe, believe that you’ll never get out. In that blackness, that nothingness, death seems like the only friend – the only thing that offers peace. Death whispers, convincingly whispers, ‘I can give you peace, escape. Everything will be fine.’ In the depth of the abyss, death becomes your savior – your only way out.
“Then … then there is a moment, a fleeting moment when you don’t think of anything or anyone. You stop thinking about how it will affect anybody else. In that moment, you know you have to escape. Most of the time, you can get through it. You keep telling yourself ‘this will end, this will end.’ But if you stop telling yourself – that it will end – you give in. You believe the lie that death is your savior. Then, too many pills are swallowed, wrists cut too deep, the gun goes off. Susan had that moment. Death told her he would save her, and she listened. She believed him, and now she’s gone.”
“It still makes no sense,” Chad said. “It can never make sense.”
“It won’t make sense to you, Chad. Unless you have been there, it will never make sense. I’ve been close enough, and I would not wish it on anyone.”
“You ever been there, Simon?” Chad asked.
“No, Chad, I have not. When was that moment for you, Peter?”
“At a Motel 6 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was a Monday, March 18, 1974, at two thirty-four a.m.” Peter stood and walked toward the kitchen and said, “Those dishes want washing.”
As Simon refilled his and Chad’s mugs with slightly stewed tea, he asked, “Chad, what about Sarah? How is she holding up? How are things between you two?”
Chad’s words came out slowly; he feared his frustration would surface. “She’s a different person these days. She’s just not there when I’m with her.” Both hands cupped around his mug, he took a sip and sighed. “I’m losing her, Simon.”
“It has only been two weeks since the funeral, Chad. You must give her time.” Simon spoke as a father offering advice.
“I know that. It’s … it’s the obsession I’m worried about.”
“Obsession? With what?”
“She is completely obsessed with her dad and Lisa. She is so focused on them. It’s as if she’s taken Susan’s place. That’s what she’s done.”
“This is to be expected. Without Susan there now, she will naturally step into her mother’s role. You cannot demand she remove herself from that role. Chad, you are going to have to be so very patient with her.”
Chad shook his head as his words spewed out quickly. “How can I be patient? I don’t have time to be patient. Any day we’ll have to leave, and Sarah and I are going backwards. You know, I hate to say it; I shouldn’t say it – but I am so goddamn mad at Susan. I would kill her myself if she was here. She might have taken her own life, but she ruined Sarah’s and mine in the process. It was selfish and ridiculous of her to do that.”
“Sarah doesn’t need your anger. She needs your understanding. You will indeed lose her if you cannot show patience and understanding.”
Chad rolled his eyes and then drank the last sip of his tea; he spit out a mouthful of tea leaves into his mug. “Yeah, right. Whatever.”
Simon continued, “Chad, you know well the dynamic in this family. You understand what you are dealing with. If you cannot be patient … well, you must carefully consider what lies ahead in this relationship – if there remains a relationship.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Peter returned with a fresh pot of tea. “It means there is significant craziness in the family that you will never fix. You must like the drama because you certainly have invested yourself in becoming a part of it.”
“Screw you, Peter. You’ve spent your whole life avoiding anything. That’s why you drove Cindy away. That’s why she’s gone off to Rhodesia. You couldn’t see – no, you refused to see – that she was the best thing that ever happened in your life. You had it for the taking, and you were too scared to let her love you, too scared to admit you loved her. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Peter rep
lied, “You’re full of it. What do you know about relationships? You’ve been just as afraid of them as I have, albeit in your own perverted way. And yeah, you’re right. I know. I was hurt in a relationship and shut off all emotion and cut myself off from everything and everyone. I didn’t want to get hurt again. You are freak’n right. I wish I could fix it, but it’s way too late now. She’s booted me out of her heart and mind. I’m as good as dead to her now.”
Simon cleared his throat and looked at the pair with a quizzical expression. His friends responded with scornful stares. He threw his hands in the air and said, “I believe your parents are going to be truly irate with me for bringing you two here. I thought it would expand your horizons and instill some direction in your lives, but now you’re going to return home hopelessly forlorn and crushed by lost loves. You two are like two schoolboys trying to figure out what love is.” Simon smiled.
Peter and Chad knew that smile well; it was the one he used to keep an atmosphere buoyant while making a vital point he expected others to consider carefully.
“So what is love, Dr. Simon? Eh? I don’t see how you’re an expert on it. What the hell is love?” Chad asked with a cheeky glint in his eye and a subtle grin.
“It is not infatuation. It is not about sappy feelings and hormones running wild. In the Bible, love is never an emotion – it is always action. To love is not to feel, it is to act. Chemistry? Okay, that will come and go, and I suppose it is chemistry and hormones that may get things started, but that is not love if it does not lead to commitment. Chad, love is commitment displayed in acts of self-sacrifice. That is my definition of love. Are you willing to make a commitment to another individual and do whatever it takes to fulfill that commitment? That is the question. And commitment always requires great risk. Peter, you need to act like a man and dare to take some risks. And dear Chad, you need to add some common sense to your risk taking.”
Peter and Chad looked at Simon now with amused smiles.
Chad said, “Simon, you are so often full of shit – wonderful, sexy, enticing, and sweet smelling, but it is still manure, and we have to call it what it is.”
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