“I’m sorry, Zelda.”
“Why don’t you just leave me alone and sort her out?” she says, glancing at her broken-down mother. “I’m off. I’m going back to Cornwall, and then I’m going back to the States as soon as I can get out of here.”
Zelda throws the flowers into the grass and makes her way back up to the road. Malachy watches her go, then turns to her mother, who is curled up in the grass.
“Oh fuck,” he murmurs as he goes to her, unsure what to do or say to help her. He sits in the grass beside her and stares down to the railway. How could he ever have imagined any of this? His shoulders slump. The blood on his face begins to dry. If only Jack hadn’t died, none of this would have happened. He gazes at the nape of Liz’s neck. He notices a small mole behind her left ear that he’s never noticed before. Is she asleep? She isn’t moving. He half stretches out a hand to comfort her, but something holds him back. He gazes down at the railway and wonders what it must have been for Jack to run through this very field, screaming at Indie as she is walking down the track. “…just walking down the track towards me, a smile on her face,” is how the driver of the train had described her. His exact words from the inquest.
Poor Jack, watching Indie’s death. It is only being there, in the very field of fate he has heard and thought so much about on and off over the years that the true horror of what Jack, his great friend and mentor, suffered. To see Indie, the love of his life, walk into that train because of a misunderstanding about Jack and the trouble-making publishing woman – pretending on television that she was close to him when he, Jack, barely even knew her. Poor Indie, poor, poor Indie. No one deserves to go like that, the innocent victim of a piece of catty mischief making. Yes, Indie was unstable. Yes, she’d spoken of taking her own life before. Poor Jack, though. Being in this very field, seeing her down there, walking down the spine of track, the train hurtling around the curve, under the bridge, and Jack, screaming to Indie to save herself. And Indie, poor, poor Indie, mistakenly believing Jack to be on the train, hurtling to London, away from her, perhaps into the arms of the publishing woman, her imagined rival.
If only things had been different. How would things be now? Indie, Jack? Zelda? And Liz? He looks down at the broken woman curled up next to him, her face buried in the grass, tiny insects moving among the crushed stands of broken and bent vegetation all around her. And the publishing woman? What of her? And the driver. So many lives. He winces as another damaged tooth pains him. Liz looks up all of a sudden.
“What has she done to you? Let’s have a look at you.”
He blinks in astonishment. Some switch marked NORMAL seems to have thrown within her.
“Oh, Malachy, we need to get you to a dentist ASAP. Come on, buddy boy. Let’s get you fixed up and sorted out.”
Malachy wonders if she is sane. Her sudden calm is uncanny. Strong American woman or shock-induced wreck? She actually gets to her feet and pulls him up.
“No sign of Zelda; guess she’s gone home. Let’s get you to a dentist. This one’s on me. The things you’ve done for this family. It’s the least this family can do for you. To think, Jack was yours before I swung in here from Georgia. God knows what you must have made of me, upsetting the apple cart here. I guess you and those sheep of Mrs. T’s saved him for me. So I owe you, Malachy Busvine. You sorted out Jack Savage for me after Indie. I know she was the love of his life. I know I was always in her shadow. How could I ever be what she was to him? Her talent. Her beauty. No. I could never be Indie to him.”
“He didn’t want you to be. He loved you for being you.”
“Best not to talk, Malachy. Your mouth’s a mess. I’m okay. Promise. I know how things are. Thank you for doing what you did today. Zelda’s okay. That’s all that matters.”
“I’m so, so, sorry, Liz. I got it all wrong. She was here to read a poem to Indie and celebrate her life. She was never going to imitate her death. Sorry for what I’ve put you through. And her.”
“You did your best. Your fears were valid. Zelda has the same condition as Indie did. And we all know how obsessed she is about her, bless her. Bless them both. I sometimes wish Indie had lived and married Jack, then none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t say that, Liz. He loved you. You made him happy. I watched him come alive in new ways when you turned up. You made him happy. I know Zelda’s a pain in the...” He winces and covers his mouth. “… but I saw how happy you two were when she showed up, don’t forget.”
“Malachy, we have to get you to a dentist right away. Come on. I’ll drive. No need to look at me like that. I’m okay. Okay?”
He nods.
But she is not okay, very not okay. She gets him to the dentist and then to the hospital. She waits for two hours until he is sorted out. She drives him home, almost seventy miles. He nods off on the journey. She helps him to his cottage on the estate. A box of her dead husband’s poetry is open on Malachy’s desk. She smiles to herself. Everything is as Jack wanted, apart from Zelda, that is. A tear rolls down her face and she touches the Kismet Diamond with her right hand.
Later that evening, she drinks the best part of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 and rolls herself a large spliff, something she hasn’t done for years. She’d gotten the dope just after Jack’s death, but hadn’t touched it then. Now she touches it. But it is skunk. And it affects her badly. It is Zelda who finds her in the morning, unconscious on the kitchen floor. And so it is back to the hospital.
Was it a suicide attempt? They pump her stomach out, just in case. Nothing is found. No suicide attempt. But they keep her in the hospital for observation, just in case. Zelda goes back to the States a week later. No one tries to stop her. Malachy needs several more dental appointments. Liz pays. Zelda blogs the whole episode. Her Twitter followership shoots up another thirty thousand. And she gets the offer of a scholarship at Vanderbilt University, her mother’s alma mater, to study American Literature, just like Liz did.
6.
And A Broken Mother
“Tell me again why you’re going?”
“Mum, I’ve been accepted at uni in Nashville. How many times do I have to tell you the same thing over and over? I’ll be in contact with Marlowe. I’ve bought a lovely weekend flat in Chattanooga, so Marlowe can meet me there for weekend getaways. And, I can spend time with my grandparents in LaFayette. You do remember them, don’t you? Your parents?”
“Oh, Zelda, why do you want to go over there? You only want to go because you know I can’t abide it there. Deceit, pain – the place holds so many terrible heartbreaks. Oh, Zelda baby, you have no idea how terrible the people are there and how many horrible memories are there for me.”
Thinking of Liz’s diary, Zelda says, “Oh, I have a better grasp than you realize on the depths of deceit some people will go to in order to manipulate people to their own advantage.”
“Zelda, honestly, I have no idea what you are talking about half the time.”
“Well, that is one of your biggest problems, Mum. You need to stop being so self-involved and at least pretend to be interested in other people. Maybe start with your own daughter. I’m leaving this afternoon in order to have everything for the start of the new semester.”
“Where are you going? Are you not even going to tell me where you will be living? Do you even have anywhere to stay?”
“Mum, I’ll be in Nashville. I’m going to Vanderbilt. I’ve a full scholarship in Literature and Poetry. That’s all you need to know. I’ll be in touch.”
“If you hate me so much, why would you want to attend my alma mater and major in the very subjects I studied, Zelda? I don’t understand, honey.”
“Because everything isn’t about you, Mum. In case you’ve forgotten, my father, at least I’m fairly certain he was my father, is Jack O. Savage. And, I’m the leading expert on the poetess, Indie Shadwick.”
Tears streak down Liz’s face. “Why do you feel the need to torment me? I’ve done nothing but love you since the
minute you were conceived. No two people were more in love than your father and I. Why can’t you stay here with me, or at least stay in the UK? You could attend Oxford, where your father studied. Please, Zelda? Why Nashville?”
“I like Nashville. There are things there that interest me. Also, I want to learn more of my American roots and family. More than anything, I want to get away from you. You are a miserable creature. You’ve done nothing but seduce, deceive, and use men your entire life. Mum, I found your diary. I want to find out more about my Uncle Charles. I want to be the daughter you should’ve been to your parents.
“And, I want to find Pete Hendrix and apologize to him for you ruining his life. You are nothing but a tramp, going from man to man, until my father fell for all your magnolia-and-cowboy-boot tricks. I need to find out if Pete is possibly my father. I don’t believe he is, but I need to know, for my own peace of mind.
“I have no desire to be anything like you, nor do I wish to be around you. You need to get yourself sorted out, Mum. I’m leaving this afternoon. Like the saying goes: don’t call me, I’ll call you, or something like it. See ya. Wouldn’t want ta be ya.”
The door slams, leaving Liz alone, a broken, sobbing heap as she staggers into the bedroom she shared with Jack and where she now sleeps alone. Their beautiful, magical child has just broken her heart in a way no one ever could. Jack. If Jack were here, he could fix everything. He could soothe the rage of his little girl. He could tell her stories, which made her laugh with glee, just as he did when she was small. And, he would hold his wife. How she loved being his wife. Jack could always take all the pain away. Jack was the guy who made everything good. Why had it lasted only ten years? Liz thinks, We were so happy. Were we too happy?
Waking up later in the day, Liz pulls herself out of bed to realize she is alone at Nook Manor. A silence fills the house, but it is not a peaceful quiet. It is the sound of a person alone. More like solitary confinement than a home.
A note is on the kitchen counter with two large refills of Liz’s meds. Jack always used to leave her notes. Everything triggers memories of him. The bottles hold enough medication to last Liz ninety days. Scribbled on a piece of paper underneath the bottles is a note in Zelda’s handwriting.
Dr Mc dropped by earlier today with your meds. Please take them mum. You need these. Z
Liz opens the bottles. The pills look different than they had before; one is smaller and blue, the other a capsule instead of the usual round pill, but if the doctor left them, they have to be what he felt she should take.
The next few months are as quiet as the day Zelda left. Most days, Liz doesn’t bother getting out of bed, so deep is the despair of her depression and loneliness. Liz never removes her engagement ring anymore. It is her reminder of Jack and the happiness of baby Zelda. Her life is worse than the grief following Jack’s death because at least she had Zelda. Liz no longer has Zelda. She never hears from Zelda. How could she have said those things about Pete? How on earth had she turned out so badly – even to her own mother? But then, Liz's relations with her mom had never been milk and honey, but this! It is like her own daughter has stepped straight from the pages of some Stephen King novel. Liz shudders.
The days that Liz does leave her bed, she checks email and the post. Still no word from her daughter. She calls Marlowe weekly. They chat and remain the best of friends. Liz asks and Marlowe always lets her know that Zelda is doing well at school.
“Liz, she’s fine. She’s okay. Zelda’s a teenager. Everything will change one day. Her grades are remarkable. Vanderbilt has already accepted the dissertation for her Ph.D. She is one of the few undergrads to ever achieve such an honor.”
Liz knows what Zelda's choice of subject will be: Indie Shadwick. Indie, Indie, always Indie Shadwick. Days turn into nights and the nights get longer and darker. Liz's desperate calls to Marlowe increase as Zelda lambastes her on Facebook and unleashes a swarm of hostile tweets about her. She cannot believe she's being bullied by her own daughter; worse, that it is actually getting to her, deeply and harshly. Her pain is real. Day and night become one blur of pain. Liz’s frantic calls to Marlowe increase.
“She just won't come to the phone, hon. I’m sorry, Liz. She’s doing well. She sees your parents or me at least every other weekend. Zelda is becoming very popular in her own right; she’s not simply riding on Jack’s coattails.”
“Does she even ask about me? Does she ever say she wants to return to England?”
The lull on the phone line breaks Liz’s heart. She knows it was more than a transatlantic connection.
“No, Liz, honey. She never even asks about you. Please give her time. It’s just a phase. As she grows older, she will change.”
Liz’s sobs unnerve Marlowe. Why does she have to be in such misery? But, there is nothing to do but watch over Zelda until she changes her mind and reconciles with her mother. Otherwise, Zelda would be lost to both Liz and Marlowe.
Liz attempts to run but only makes it to the end of the long drive leading to Nook Manor. She tries working in the garden, but it only reminds her of Jack. She thinks of the walks she and Zelda would take after Jack’s death and how Zelda always wanted to share secrets. She had dreams that Jack was still there. “Mummy, we can’t see him, but he sees us.” Zelda told her over and over.
Zelda’s puppy, Spot, is long gone and buried in the garden. So many memories of happy and bittersweet times. Only, this time is the saddest Liz has ever known.
Malachy and her neighbor from the closest farm to Nook Manor, Mrs. T, found another stray that someone named Henry. Depending on the day, he is either Harry or Henry. He was such a rambunctious little thing. Only he didn’t stay little very long. In a matter of two months, he became a strapping big black wolfhound. He loves Liz, but his bond is with Malachy, which suits Liz. She has no desire to love anything else that would eventually abandon her.
She knows her depression is back and as severe as ever. Dr. Mc will continue to keep her on the meds when she returns to see him in a few months. Nothing will change. Day becomes night and becomes day again. The spiral continues and she reaches utter despair, praying daily that her daughter be safe. Zelda’s safety is even more important to her than hearing from her. But, every night, when Liz sees the first twinkling star, her wish is always please have Zelda connect with me soon.
The dreams return of the Cherokee warrior, along with a new and worrying nightmare of Zelda harming herself. Liz no longer has Jack to comfort her following the frightful dreams. She calls Marlowe the next day to ensure that Zelda is all right.
“She’s doing so well, Liz. You should be really proud of her. Zelda is becoming a beautiful young woman. She continues to be in the top of her class at Vandy. She is even working out and losing weight like you would not believe. Life here suits her. She’ll come around, I promise you.”
“Marlowe, I can’t take much more,” Liz sobs into the telephone.
“Liz, sweetheart. Zelda isn’t like you or me. She is the only child of a very famous man. We have to allow her to find her own voice. It’s just a matter of time. Think of it this way: once Zelda outgrows this, she will discover how very wise her own mother is and come running back to you. She is strong and independent, Liz. To you, she is still that little girl. But, Zelda is all grown up and slowly becoming an intellectual force to be reckoned with. It will be okay, Liz. Not today and not tomorrow, but someday.”
Those words. Where have I heard those words?
“Okay, Marlowe, I’ll try to be strong and hold on a little longer. I just never knew it was possible to miss someone so very much. Zelda is all I have left of Jack.”
“You have your memories, Liz. If Jack were here, you would be traveling. Have you thought of anything like that? Maybe get involved in one of the community groups in your village. What about a book club? There are online book clubs now. You won’t even have to leave Nook Manor. Is the BBC still planning that documentary about Jack’s life? Maybe you could throw yourself into
that.'”
Liz knows Marlowe is right, but she has no energy for attempting anything new. Just getting up before noon has become an issue. Focusing to read is a challenge as well. Her spiral into darkness continues.
She dreams of Jack. Sometimes, he will appear and just pull up a chair and sit down and chat. She can never remember the specifics of the dreams, just that she sees him again. Once, she asked if he remembers her. This dream she does recall. Of course I remember you. How could I ever forget you? he says. Then, he pulls her into his strong, comforting arms and kisses her as he had a million times.
Waking up with tears running down her face, Liz openly cries into her own pillow. Nothing will ever be the same. She has lost Jack. She has been abandoned by her daughter. She is ready to cross the abyss to join her grandfather, her brother, and Jack. The Cherokee warrior will guide her. That must be why he has returned to her dreams.
There is only one thing to be done. She has to leave Zelda a part of her legacy. Malachy found a few new poems from Jack only a few days ago, along with some never before seen pictures of Jack with Indie on one of their trips across Europe. Liz can pull herself together long enough to get the message to Zelda that she has something for her. Something new from Jack. She can be that Strong American Woman long enough to do that for their beautiful daughter.
~ ~ ~
Halfway around the world at her weekend getaway condo in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Zelda awakens, bathed in sweat. It is late morning. She gets up and wanders from room to room. She takes her sleeping meds and takes down the picture of Walnut Street Bridge from its place in the kitchen. Meds and memories. She's cold, but past caring.
She picks up a small Kitchen Devil knife with a black handle and eyes the steely blade. She rests the blade upon the skin of her wrist and sees Indie walking down the train track. The train hurtles into her. Red mist. All over. The knife falls from her hand and clatters over the cold tiles of her silent kitchen. She sees what she recognizes from pictures as an ancient Cherokee warrior looking in from the window. Have you come for me? Have you? She covers her eyes and finds he's gone when she looks again. Was never there. Was there. Never there. Was, was, was, is. She runs up to her bedroom, throws herself onto her bed, and pulls the covers over the desolation her life has become. Meds and memories of what could've been or what should’ve been. Meds and nothing.
September Again (September Stories) Page 5