The Road Home

by Erin Zak

  “Lila…” Gwendolyn’s voice is a whisper, placed under a shaky breath.

  “Your parents saved me, Gwen. Carol saved me. And I’ll save you if you’ll let me.”

  “You already have.” Gwendolyn wraps her fingers around Lila’s wrist. “You already have.” She scrunches her face as her tears start to flow; a dam has broken. She grabs tissues and hands a few over before she blows her nose. “Stop being sappy.” Her plea is mumbled as she leans back.

  “Oh, I’m being sappy? You’re the one who wanted me over here.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Tell me a story, then, something fun.”

  Gwendolyn smiles as she looks at the ceiling, then at her mom. “Do you remember Enchanted Forest?”

  “The amusement park? I think it was closed by the time I was old enough.”

  “Well, my mom took me every summer growing up.” She laughs. “She loved this one ride called Mad Mouse.”

  She tells the story: the smells, the food, the laughter with her cousins, her mom, her dad, her inability to hold her food down after a spinning ride. Her smile is marvelous, her laughter even more so, and as she launches into the first time she won a volleyball game under her mom’s coaching, Lila can’t help but tear up at the idea that she’ll never get to coach with Carol again. She’ll never hear her groans or her, “What the hell, come on, ladies,” again. She’ll never have another moment of lost hope and watch it turn around with expert coaching. Carol’s encouraging words, her moments of anger when she’d break a clipboard, her ability to read a serve or a block before it even happened.

  In this moment of despair, when Lila is at her worst, and Gwendolyn is at the best she can be, given the circumstances, Lila hears the heart monitor slow. The falter stops Gwendolyn mid-sentence, mid-story of her first sprained ankle and how Carol made her sit with her foot in a bucket of ice

  Gwendolyn’s eyes are wide when she leans forward and grips Carol’s hand. “No,” she whispers. “Not yet.”

  The monitor is still beeping. Her heart is still beating. But the beeps slow as the beats do. Her breaths are getting further apart.

  Lila stands, moves around the bed so she’s next to Gwendolyn. “It’s okay,” she whispers.

  “I don’t want her to go yet.”

  “It’s going to be okay. She won’t be suffering any longer.”

  “I haven’t had enough time.” Gwendolyn lets out a sob. “I’m not ready.”

  Lila kneels. “I know, but she is. She’s ready.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  Lila’s whisper snags in her throat. She swallows before she says, “You’re right.” She rubs Gwendolyn’s back, moves her hair away from her face, away from the wetness on her cheeks.

  “Why was I so selfish?” Gwendolyn’s head is bent as she sobs. “I am so mad at myself.”

  “Hey,” Lila says as she moves Gwendolyn the smallest of amounts so she’ll look at her. “She loves you. Don’t be mad at yourself.”

  The monitor has slowed to nearly nonexistent. Carol breathes one more time before the monitor beeps three more times and goes silent.

  Gwendolyn’s cry comes out as a wail when she leans across the bed. Lila hears a soft gasp from the doorway. David is there, mouth hanging open. Lila nods, and he covers the distance between the bed and Gwendolyn’s chair with two giant steps. Lila moves from her side when he places his hands on Gwendolyn’s shoulders.

  “Come here, baby,” he says quietly. Gwendolyn reaches out to hit him, and he catches her hand. “Come here.” He pulls her until she finally relents. He wraps his arms around her as she cries.

  In the history of Lila’s relationship with all of them, this is the only time she’s felt like an intruder. She moves to the monitor, switches it off, then does the same with the oxygen machine before she leans down to Carol’s lifeless body. She places a kiss on her forehead. “I love you so much,” she says as softly as possible. “I hope you’re at rest.”

  When Lila is safely outside the room, she allows herself to sink to the floor and cry.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Things to add to my resume: planning a memorial service. Burying a loved one. Barely holding it all together.

  Gwendolyn seems to do nothing but take deep breaths these days. A deep breath to not cry. A deep breath before speaking. A deep breath always. A month has come and gone since her mom’s passing. She suggested waiting until the season was over before holding the memorial service, but when the volleyball girls asked about it at practice one day, she made the decision to go forward. It was important for the sake of closure. And not only for her, but for the girls, for Lila, and also for her father.

  The church where Gwendolyn’s grandmother used to take her to vacation bible school graciously opened their doors for the service, even though her mom hadn’t been to services in years. Gwendolyn found out that she stopped going from Lila, who wasn’t sure when it had happened.

  Pastor Dan is a nice man, and went on and on about Carol and her presence in the community. Gwendolyn hated the pleasantries, but she knew they were all necessary, so she put on a smile and a brave face and went with it. Thankfully, Lila had been with her every step of the way. As had her father, which, at first, was as unexpected as it was unnecessary. She settled into his presence, though, and grew to depend on him again. That part sort of infuriated her because she didn’t want to need him ever again.

  Funny what death does to a person.

  The church is starting to fill up as Gwendolyn stands as tall as possible in the vestibule. She has been greeting people all morning. She’s gone through a package and a half of tissues already. Thankfully, Lila came prepared and has more at the ready. Lila has been by her side since they arrived at the church. Hell, since everything happened. Gwendolyn knows it’s for two reasons: Lila wants to be there for her, and Lila is as much her mom’s daughter as she is. She hates herself for dragging her feet to be okay with the facts, but she is also grateful she finally came to terms with it. Even if it did take entirely too long.

  Pastor Dan approaches from the nave. His face is void of emotion. Exactly how she wishes she felt. “I think we’re ready,” he whispers. “Are you three ready?”

  Gwendolyn looks from Lila to her father. “Yes. I think so.”

  * * *

  Gwendolyn handles herself wonderfully in front of the congregation. Lila isn’t shocked because of course an actress can handle herself with poise and dignity during a stressful situation, even though Gwendolyn has been through so much in the past four, almost five, months.

  God, has it only been five months?

  Now they’re sitting at the restaurant where a group of close friends and family have decided to end the evening. It’s one of Vale Park’s finest and also Carol’s favorite and most frequented of the downtown restaurants. They have a room to themselves and a server, Jamie, who loved Carol and was loved equally in return. Gwendolyn’s talking with her. Not surprisingly, Jamie’s devastated by the news of Carol’s passing. She’s waited on Carol and David almost every Friday night for the past six years. Lila had grown semi-close to her, as well, since she typically joined them on those Fridays.

  The smile on Gwendolyn’s lips is sad as she hugs Jamie. Lila feels a slight pull of jealousy for no other reason than she’s missed Gwendolyn during this mourning period. Seeing her every day has helped, but Gwendolyn has shut down. Every now and then, Lila sees the sadness, the emptiness, and wonders if Gwendolyn is too far gone to come back.

  Lila keeps a proverbial hand on her, for no other reason than to make sure she doesn’t jump from the cliff she seems so near. None of this has been easy, so Lila works hard to keep her emotions intact when it comes to every aspect of Gwendolyn.

  She only allows herself to be upset about Carol. After all, Carol’s passing left a hole in her heart the same as it has with everyone else. Even when the emotions are too much to handle, even when she allows herself to cry alone in her car or a bathroom, she still h
olds it together for Gwendolyn. For David. For the volleyball girls.

  Gwendolyn’s leg presses against hers under the table. The gesture is so small, but it means more than she’d be able to articulate if asked. Watching Gwendolyn progress through the stages of grief has been one of the most difficult experiences in Lila’s life. The denial was brief, but the isolation lasted forever. She saw Gwendolyn every day, but Gwendolyn erected a wall that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to scale.

  When Gwendolyn slammed her hand against the bathroom mirror, it shattered. Lila knew then that she needed to get up and over the wall as quickly as possible. The anger had reached its peak, and the mirror was the casualty. Lila helped clean the wounds while Gwendolyn sat on the toilet, the shards of mirror still scattered along the vanity.

  “How about them Cubbies?” Lila asked. The small smile on Gwendolyn’s lips had meant everything to her. “World Series this year or what?”

  “I don’t know. That Javy Baez sure is a cutie.”

  “He really is.” She finished bandaging the wound, and Gwendolyn pulled her forward and kissed her passionately. The kiss tasted of salt and coffee, but it was needed and wanted, and even more than those things, it was perfect on every level.

  “Thank you,” Gwendolyn whispered against her lips. “For loving me through this.”

  “Try not to break any more mirrors during the season. You know it’s bad luck.” The comment had garnered a laugh before they cleaned up the destruction together.

  Gwendolyn is making her way back to Lila now. The sadness has lessened. The long talks with Dr. Wynn, trying to understand why everything happened the way it did, have ceased. And the new mirror in the upstairs bathroom is a gentle reminder of how keeping everything bottled up may not be the best course of action.

  And Gwendolyn’s leg pressed against Lila’s is a good indicator.

  “She really was a class act,” Sabine says from the end of the table. “She had no qualms about telling people how she felt, but somehow, she always did it in a way that demanded respect.”

  David raises his glass of chardonnay. “To Carol. She really was the heart of all of us.”

  “She was incredible,” Gwendolyn adds, holding her glass of pinot noir and tilting it toward her father. Their relationship appears to be better, but Lila wonders if it’s temporary or permanent.

  “Hear, hear,” one of Carol’s sisters says. “The best of the Russells. That’s for sure.”

  “Without question,” another sister says. “We’ll miss ya, Carol.” She looks toward Heaven and smiles.

  Lila raises her glass and drinks. The moment is delicate, special, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel like an intruder.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The house still smells like her.

  Gwendolyn pours herself a tumbler of whiskey. She hasn’t been drinking much. Even at dinner, she didn’t finish her glass of wine. Part of the reason is because alcohol hasn’t really tasted too great. And also because she knows, if she really lets go, it’d take no time to become a little too dependent on the depressant. But every now and then, it helps her sleep.

  Lila invited her to stay the night, but there’s something calming about being at home. Maybe because the house still smells like her mother. Or maybe it’s because she feels at home again. Or maybe it’s because she isn’t sure if she’s ready for sex again.

  She understands the importance of sex in a relationship. She really does. The patience Lila has is astounding, and Gwendolyn feels bad about her lack of desire. There’s something holding her back, and it’s not her mother’s passing.

  The other day, she reached out to Dr. Wynn for that drink. She wanted to ask questions, understand, be able to wrap her head around how fast her mother’s body seemed to give up. The conversation went very well, which Gwendolyn was thrilled about, yet at the same time, she was fighting with something else inside her. Finally, the realization hit her.

  For years and years, she was under the poor assumption that her parents’ relationship was without issues. She believed her father was wonderful, and her mom was awful. And while the opposite of those assumptions isn’t exactly true, she has learned so much about both of them and their relationship.

  Their marriage wasn’t perfect.

  Her father wasn’t always wonderful.

  And her mother was far from awful.

  Knowing the ins and outs of someone’s life is eye-opening in maybe the best of ways. Everything made sense once those truths fell into place. She started to understand why her parents were the way they were.

  She walks through the living room to her mom’s favorite chair. She sits, glances around the room, which is back to normal, but it’s hard not to remember the hospital bed. She sometimes hears the oxygen machine, the whirring, soft sounds, and it comforts her in a weird way. She knows her mom is at peace.

  The doorbell rings a second after she pops the footrest up. She sighs. “Seriously?” The footrest creaks closed, and she stands, making her way to the front door, irritated. Through the glass portion of the front door, she sees a figure. Her first thought is Lila, but after she flips on the porch light, it’s an older man.

  “You must be Gwendolyn,” he says with a smooth, gentle voice. He’s dressed in a dark gray suit and a pale lavender shirt with a dark purple bowtie peeking out from beneath a vest. He clutches a yellow envelope. “Oh.” He takes off his matching fedora. “My apologies.” Removing the hat reveals more salt than pepper hair. His mustache is a similar color, and the light from the lamp is illuminating the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. Even bluer than her own.

  “Can I help you?” she asks.

  “I, um…” He fidgets with his fedora. “I knew your mother, Carol Russel. Well, Carter. Carol Carter.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes.” He lifts on the toes of his black wing tips and settles back to the porch. His eyes fill with tears. “She was quite a lady. A real wonderful woman.” He sighs as he wipes away a tear. “I was instructed to bring this to you. When…” He holds the envelope out. His hand is shaking.

  “What?”

  “Please take this.”

  “Who are you? I don’t understand.”

  “Just a man…who loved her very much.” He lifts his chin and sniffles before he places his hat on his head and straightens the brim. “Thank you for your time.”

  Gwendolyn looks down at the envelope, then at the man as he rushes down the steps. “Wait!”

  He doesn’t stop, climbs into the back seat of a black limousine, and it pulls away.

  * * *

  Gwendolyn leans against the foot of her bed. “My mother was having an affair with this man for twenty-seven years.”

  Lila is on her stomach on the floor, going through the letters and pictures in the envelope.

  “If they basically had an open marriage, was it really an affair? You know what I mean?”

  Lila sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am. But it’s really nice to hear you say it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

  Gwendolyn chuckles as she smooths a hand over Lila’s cheek. Thankfully, Lila was awake when Gwendolyn called. Otherwise, she would have to deal with all of this by herself.

  “Did you read this letter?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “When Gerald passes, they want their ashes mixed and spread together at the dunes.” She sighs as she holds it up. “It’s Mom’s handwriting. Her signature and his. And it’s notarized. Which is so weird and random.” She laughs. “They were serious.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Wait for him to die, I guess.”

  Lila laughs. “Gwen!”

  “Well?” She can’t help but join in. “This is quite the plot twist.”

  “It really is.”

  “I mean, twenty-seven years. Can you even imagine?” She lies down, staring up at the ceiling, and sighs. “He gave
me his address. He lives in Colorado. He said I can write or call if I’d like. And if I want, he’ll send me the rest of the letters.”

  “Jesus, how many are there?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Are you going to tell your father?” Lila must have crawled right out of bed and came over. Her hair is a mess, and is that toothpaste at the corner of her mouth?

  “No. I think I’ll keep this one for me.”

  Lila smiles as she crawls closer and places her lips on Gwendolyn’s forehead. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  The butterflies that spring to life in Gwendolyn’s stomach feel amazing. She hasn’t felt their fury in what feels like years. The way Lila is lying, with her elbows propping her up, her cleavage looks amazing in her tank top. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  “I would love to.”

  Gwendolyn pulls her in gently while pushing the pictures and letters to the side. “Kiss me?” The question comes out as a whisper. She doesn’t have to ask, but she also wants Lila to know she’s ready. Finally.

  Lila’s lips meet Gwendolyn’s, softly at first, until Gwendolyn slips her tongue into Lila’s mouth. The invitation to deepen the kiss is received, and Lila takes control. She straddles Gwendolyn’s hips, then pulls her tank top up and over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra, which Gwendolyn noticed when she arrived, but seeing her bare breasted causes so much wetness to pool between Gwendolyn’s thighs, she wonders if she’ll be able to contain herself. She tweaks Lila’s nipples, pulls them lightly, and Lila grinds her hips.

  Lila kisses her again, deeply, passionately, before she breaks away and says, “Let me take care of you tonight.”

  Gwendolyn’s throat aches at her selflessness. She decides not to fight, and as she’s instructed to sit up, and her shirt is pulled up and over her head, she reminds herself that it’s okay to let someone else take care of her now.