Ellipsis

by Kristy McGinnis

  Guns were also addressed. We kept our focus pointed, rather than looking at across-the-board gun regulations that would have had little to no success in passing, we would focus on gun laws as they related to those accused of domestic violence. It was crucial, we argued, that police have the legal tools to remove guns from homes where a party was accused of domestic violence. Relying on adult victims and courts to pursue and award protective orders was too risky. Allowing 24 hours even after such an order was awarded for forfeiture of guns voluntarily to friends, family members or police was also too risky. Police should have the ability to remove guns immediately from a home when responding to those calls, and any forfeiture should be to law enforcement personnel.

  The governor was impressed with our efforts and his office wanted to acknowledge the organization with a formal ribbon-cutting ceremony at the capital. It wouldn’t be an especially large event, but there would be some media there and we hoped we’d reach a few new potential political allies. It would also be a unique opportunity for us to honor our children. None of us had truly been in a place during their memorial services to pay tribute to them in the manner they deserved. This gave us a second chance to get that right. As part of those efforts, I was touched when Ben contacted me to tell me he would be donating the portrait he’d done for Charlie’s funeral as well as portraits of the other children to display at the event.

  In the lead to the event, I’d become immersed in the tribe. Sometimes, all of us would meet up with a formal agenda, but at other times we were just four friends sharing our daily lives. Grief was the awning over our patio, at times its shadow dominated, but there were other times the sun shifted enough on the horizon we forgot it was even there. We talked Sherry through her marital strains; she and Calvin were trudging through their daily lives but had completely lost connection with each other outside of survivor mode. When she shyly admitted to us they hadn’t been intimate since the shooting, we forced her into a department store to lingerie shop. When she later reported the mission to be a success, we celebrated with her with toasts at a wine bar.

  To the casual observer, Ronda was a superwoman. She was practicing law full-time again. She was still active in her church. She had nudged Aliya out of her shell a bit and was once again hosting girl scout meetings at her house. Only we knew about the nightmares that still woke her almost nightly. She’d sneak out of bed and tiptoe down the hall and peer in at her surviving child to reassure herself everything was okay. She had Big Jeremiah, as I fondly called him, to lean on but having made herself the steel pillar within our little community left her at times emotionally drained. We were familiar enough, and bold enough, to do what very few people were brave enough to ever do with Ronda Jenkins. We told her to knock it off and relax a little. Amazingly, she actually listened to us and we walked her down a path of self-care.

  As for me, I’d become a pet project too. Although Lulu was also single, they’d pinged in on my solitary life in particular. Maybe it was because Lulu had a child living with her, or maybe it was that she’d been married until just a few years prior, but they didn’t pressure her the way they did me. They were constantly tossing out names of men they’d like to set me up with. I always refused, I was doing better, but I was absolutely not in a place to start dating. I’d barely dated at all since Charlie was three years old, and it had worked out fine for me until now after all. I didn’t need a man in my life to be complete.

  I tried to explain this to my friends, but they were unsatisfied.

  “You’re still so young, Nell. I know I sure don’t plan to stay single forever. Why would you want to?” Lulu asked.

  I wasn’t planning on anything; I was ignoring the idea of dating entirely.

  Sherry looked uncomfortable and said softly, “You could have another child, you know.”

  Everyone got silent then. It was the one topic we never broached. None of us had ever mentioned trying to make our families larger with the loss of our children. I felt my mouth tighten in anger and said, “No, I can’t, I won’t. Charlie isn’t replaceable.”

  “I didn’t mean that, Nell, I just mean you don’t have to be alone, and you can have a real family someday. I’d give anything to be able to have another baby. I’m 54, though. It took us 12 years to conceive Misty. My ship has completely sailed,” she said sadly.

  “I know you mean well, but you have to believe me, I have no desire to ever have another child. Charlie was my one and only. Not only isn’t there a prospective father in the picture, but I’m also almost 34 years old. I’m doing okay now, but I still have a lot of issues that would make me an unsuitable parent.”

  The finality of my tone convinced them to drop the subject, and move cautiously to one less loaded, my impending return to the classroom.

  In the weeks leading to the new school year, I’d been nervous but determined to get back into a classroom. I had been excited to enact some of my MPV plans in the classroom, but truthfully, I’d also wanted to prove to myself that I could still find joy in some part of my old life. My tribe had encouraged me in those preparations. I was touched when they dropped off a huge stash of class supplies in a gift basket. Their confidence in me helped me feel more confident in myself and it turned out returning to school was easier than I feared it might be.

  Beyond spending time with the tribe, I’d also taken to meeting with Ben again. We didn’t get to see each other as frequently as when Charlie was taking lessons, but we hit Mabel’s every other week or so. I realized that as much as we’d appreciated Ben in our lives, Ben had also appreciated us in his. He may have enjoyed his solitude, but I could also tell he was lonely at times too. He opened up more about his own family. His surviving sons lived far away, but they were still trying to be a little too involved in his private life. When Ben confessed, they were always bugging him about meeting some nice older woman, I shared my own recent friendly arguments over dating.

  “Your friends are right, though, Nell. You’re way too young to give up on finding someone.”

  “Ugh, not you too! I tell you what. I’ll go on a date when you do; how does that sound?” I replied crankily.

  He’d laughed at that, maybe a little too hard, and I changed the subject to the upcoming portrait unveiling. I knew Ben was not a portrait artist, but I also knew he would more than do our children justice. That he had a personal connection made his participation all the more serious. A few days after that conversation, he called to not-so-casually mention, “Oh, and by the way, I’m bringing a date to the reception following the ceremony. I can’t wait to meet your young man.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d been so easily snookered by Ben Hamilton of all people. When I shared my dilemma with the tribe, they immediately threw out names and descriptions of every eligible bachelor they knew. Annoyed at myself for going along with the madness, I chose a random name just to stop the barrage. Lulu had supplied the winning name and she beamed as if she’d outwitted a worthy opponent in chess. I pursed my lips and announced, “Whatever. Just tell him to text me, I’m not texting him first,” to their laughter.

  We’d moved on to appetizers and wine, when Sherry’s phone rang. She had a strange look on her face as she answered it and then walked away.

  “What do you think that’s all about?” Ronda asked.

  “I don’t know, hopefully, there isn’t an issue with Calvin….” I replied

  We’d barely had time to speculate when Sherry returned. “You guys are not going to believe who that was! Angela Carter. She said she’s ready to meet with us.”

  It was a huge surprise. The Carters had refused all overtures until now. Jessica’s funeral had been kept private, they’d avoided all press, and never answered a single one of Ronda or Sherry’s voicemails. We’d speculated that maybe they just could not handle talking about their daughter or maybe they belonged to some very insular religious community, and as a rule, they avoided outsiders. We’d never forgotten Jessica, and Ben was including her in his display, but none of u
s had expected by this point that they’d respond to our many efforts.

  “I mean, we’re all kind of on our own timeline. You guys were meeting for weeks before I was able to even think about joining you,” I pointed out.

  “That’s true, and it sort of feels like forever because of everything we’ve accomplished, but it’s only been six months,” Lulu said.

  Six months. It took nine months to gestate a baby, we hadn’t even had the time yet to develop a human being. Sometimes the truth was I felt like I was pushing too hard, too fast. Callie had lit something inside me, though, a need to be needed once again. When I thought back to those early weeks after Charlie’s death and how desperately alone and listless I’d been, I felt certain I’d be dead right now if it hadn’t been for her falling into my life.

  Morris had called a few days after Callie’s rescue to let me know I could come down and officially pick up Charlie’s phone. At the station, he’d pulled me aside to share what he had learned about the phone itself. On the morning of the shooting, it turned out Charlie had left his phone on his homeroom desk. He must have pulled it out when he texted me about going to his friend’s house and never put it away. I could picture him standing absentmindedly, joking with the kids around him, without a care in the world. He’d simply walked out of that room and left it sitting there.

  Callie was also in that homeroom and she didn’t have friends to talk to. There was no one who wanted to joke with her, and as she trudged toward the front of the room alone, she spotted the phone and pocketed it. The mystery of how she accessed it was also answered. Charlie, despite the rules I’d put in place, had disengaged the password. I could only guess at his motive, but the most likely one was that he didn’t want to waste two seconds to enter it each time. His tweenage rebellion had saved Callie’s life.

  When I thought about how we saved each other, Callie and I, I felt Charlie’s fingerprints all over it. If that was possible, then I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the deity I’d so consciously avoided most of my life had more than a passing interest in me. Six months had not healed my broken heart or my yearning soul, but it had given me a purpose and reason to keep living.

  29

  I’d refused my date’s request to pick me up before the ceremony. I explained brusquely it would be best to meet after that part. I spent the day of the ceremony awash in a kaleidoscope of emotions. While our grief would be central, this was truly a day about accomplishment. We had done it; we had overcome that which might have otherwise killed us, and we were moving forward with purpose. Everyone who would be there was window dressing; this was about us. The reluctant survivors.

  I wore a soft green sweater dress and chic black boots, but not to impress the stranger supposed to be taking my arm. I was dressed up for Charlie; I wanted him to be proud of me. When I walked through the underground tunnel from the capital lawn into the main building, a kindly usher took my arm and walked me toward the rotunda where the main event would take place. My Tribe was there, and we beamed at each other. Then, I saw Sherry’s smile widen as she motioned across the room to a petite pale woman who seemed to drown in baggy black dress pants and a black blazer. She walked hesitantly toward us and Sherry said softly, “Angela, this is Ronda, Nell, and Lulu. Everyone, this is Angela Carter.”

  We rushed around her, and soon Lulu had her wide arms wrapped tightly around the frail woman. I felt the warmth of her embrace echo through the chamber, and I glanced around to see the crowd watching us. That’s when I noticed the easels. I murmured that I’d be right back and made my way over. In the first, Jessica Carter smiled widely, unashamed of her slightly crooked teeth. Her long blonde hair was held back with a clip and a faint smattering of early summer freckles dotted her nose. She was sitting on a swing, looking heavenward, the picture of innocence and joy.

  In the second painting, I saw the boy whose picture I had seen many times. He’d never looked this alive though in those photos. DeShawn Jenkins had a slightly impish smile, his smooth dark skin crinkled at his eyes in the same way Big Jeremiah’s did. He was close up, in profile, smiling at a distant figure across a field. The figure was a small black girl in a pink dress with braids flying behind her and I knew without being told it was Aliya, DeShaun’s twin.

  Misty Framingham lay on a blanket in the third painting. She was smiling softly, with her lips closed, up at the sky she had been gazing at. A book lay folded open across her belly and in one hand, she held a daisy. She was the picture of serenity and peace.

  Finally, my heart beating rapidly, I moved to the final painting. I’d seen it once before, but on that day, I’d barely been able to register it. Now I was in a place I could finally appreciate it. He, too, was smiling, of course. His brown eyes, the eyes I used to call Narek’s eyes, but now I called Charlie’s eyes, were open wide, framed with their luscious lashes. His head was slightly crooked, and his eyes were focused, studying something off canvas. He wore a blue t-shirt, and on close inspection, I could see the dab of paint on the sleeve. In his left hand, there was a paintbrush. In the background, I could see a hint of Ben’s barn, and overhead the sun shone so brightly, a ray seemed to shine directly on Charlie himself. Tears pricked my eyes; it was the most beautiful painting I’d ever seen.

  I moved back over to my tribe, and Ronda reached her hand to give mine a squeeze. I smiled back, and then we focused on just breathing as the governor began his introduction. When he finally finished, he gestured back at us, and as we had practiced, Ronda stepped forward.

  “We thank you for this opportunity to introduce the city to our organization. Our goal, as was so eloquently stated by the governor, is simple. We want to prevent any other family from ever knowing the pain we have known. We believe that preventing gun violence in our schools begins long before a child ever feels desperate or angry enough to pick up that weapon. We believe that a comprehensive strategy is needed, starting in kindergarten to identify children at risk. While our goal is to identify and help 100% of these children, we also know someone may still slip through the cracks, so our approach is threefold, identify at-risk children, improve mental health access for youth and children, and enact sensible gun laws to keep guns out of the hands of children.”

  When she finally concluded her speech and thanked everyone, there was robust applause. I knew the news cycle ticked by quickly, and tomorrow, these same people might forget all of this, but at least for now, they were on our side.

  We then made our way into the old senate chamber for the small reception. I spotted Ben across the room and made my way to him. “Oh my god, Ben, they’re perfect, absolutely perfect. Thank you.” and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

  He smiled and said, “I was the greatest labor of love I’ve ever undertaken. I’m glad I was able to do it.”

  I glanced around and asked, “Where’s your date?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I guess I forgot her.”

  “Ben! You didn’t! You totally cheated.”

  Before he could reply, I heard Lulu exclaim excitedly from my side, “Nell, Peter’s here! Peter, this is the Nell I’m always talking about.”

  I turned to face a nervous-looking man in his thirties, who was overdressed in a suit and tie. I shot Lulu a look and then an even darker one at Ben.

  “Hi, Nell, good to meet you, finally. I feel like I know you from all our texting!” he said way too enthusiastically. The truth was we’d barely texted at all, at least, I had barely texted. I was sure this Peter was a nice guy, but I felt nothing when I looked at him except annoyance. I glanced back at Ben and saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Glancing around furtively for an escape, my eyes stopped when they met Dan Morris’s eyes across the room.

  I spun around to Peter and said, “Hey, so I’ll be back in a minute, I see an old friend,” and left him standing there next to a slightly embarrassed looking Lulu.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I confessed after I reached Morris.

  He smiled, “When I read about this in th
e papers, I had to make it. Congratulations on setting up this initiative, from a law enforcement perspective, I really appreciate the focus on prevention.”

  “Yes, well, we needed to do something. Just hiding at home wasn’t accomplishing much.”

  He nodded. “I can see it’s been good for you; you look good.”

  As soon as the words came out, he shuffled his feet and looked away awkwardly. I knew he wasn’t here in a professional capacity; he was here to see me and I knew intuitively that he liked what he saw. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but what was striking was that I didn’t feel an immediate urge to discourage him or push him away. I felt vaguely curious.

  Wanting to smooth over the moment, I asked, “And Callie? Any word on how she’s doing?”

  “She’s good, she’s actually really good. She’s in a terrific foster home and they have her riding horses as part of her therapy. She’s really opened up and I think it’s finally started to sink in, she’s actually safe. Her father will spend some time behind bars. Maybe he’ll even get help, although I don’t have a lot of faith in that. He won’t be in her life, though.”

  “What about her mother? I’m really confused about where she is in all of this.”

  “She’s a victim and a perpetrator. She was a classic battered spouse in most senses, but she doesn’t seem to have any interest in her own child. It’s bizarre. I haven’t dug into her background, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she, too, had been abused as a child. She’s left the state with a new boyfriend, and this one has a record a mile long. I don’t see social services allowing her in Callie’s life unless she makes some huge changes.”

  I felt him before I saw him, Peter, suddenly at my side again. “Hi, Nell, just wondered if you wanted to get out of here and go get a real bite to eat.”

  I glanced up at Dan who was watching us without saying a word. “Hm, actually, I don’t think that’s going to work for me, Peter. It turns out I need to get some work done with Officer Morris here.”