by Misa Rush
“I understand. But, I guess I just need to know how.” Brad said.
Karsen sat silently. She picked a tiny bite from the corner of her sandwich and tried to force it down.
Mr. Woods looked down. He knew this conversation was inevitable. Just like the phone calls he had to make. “She was just running up to the market.” He paused to clear the lump in his throat. “She headed down County Road 17 like she always did. Another car was heading in the opposite direction and crossed over the line. He didn’t hit her, but your mother swerved. The roads were still wet from the thunderstorm we’d had the night before. Apparently, she lost control and veered head-on into a tree.”
“Oh, Mom, no,” Brad said softly as Karsen sat numb, unable to process anything more.
“The police said she died instantly.”
“Was the guy drunk?” Brad felt his blood start to boil.
“No, he even stopped to call for help. In his statement, he admitted that he glanced down to check a text message. Damn cell phones. Worse than drinking if you ask me.”
Karsen couldn’t listen any longer. Instead, she excused herself and set her plate of untouched food in the sink. On the counter, she noticed a plastic bag still housing her mother’s possessions collected from her vehicle. Her mom’s keys, lipstick and a photo of the family were among other items. Seeking comfort, she cocooned on the floor in the living room and bundled herself under a blanket by the fireplace. Belle snuggled around her feet. She turned the television on to deafen the silence, but had no interest in watching. Just as she felt more tears begin to emerge, she heard her father and Brad enter the room.
“Dad?” she asked, biting back the tears.
He looked up from the television. “Yes?”
“I was just wondering what you were planning to do with Mom’s necklace.”
He paused awkwardly.
“Well?”
“I want her to have it,” he mumbled.
“You’re going to bury her with it?” Karsen asked, hoping that was not his intention. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him, but to her the piece meant everything - the connection to her family and now the only connection left to her mother.
“It was one of her favorite possessions. I want her to have it.” Her father turned back to the program as if to indicate the decision had been made.
“But it’s also a part of us, part of our family tradition. I’d like to keep it. Maybe hand it down to my own kids someday.” Karsen had heard the story from her mother, Katherine, numerous times. How, when Katherine was born, her father, Karsen’s grandfather, wanted to give her mother a special gift. He handmade three interlocking charms, each in the shape of a puzzle piece that fit together perfectly - one for him, one for Grandma and one for the new addition, Katherine. Growing up, Karsen’s mother continued the tradition by having a jeweler make pieces for her own husband and two children.
Brad hesitated to interfere, but finally chimed in to support his sister. He saw no point in leaving a necklace where it would never be seen again. His voice was softer than usual. “Dad, I see your point, but Karsen’s right. I think Mom would have wanted to keep the pieces together.”
Their father wanted to avoid the conversation entirely.
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, sounding somewhat defensive and on the brink of tears.
“Please, Dad?” Karsen pleaded one last time.
“I said I’d think about it. It’s just a damn piece of jewelry.”
“No it’s not!” Karsen argued, “Maybe to you it is, but it’s not to me. I get why you’d want her to have her wedding ring, but why the necklace? They’re meant to be passed down.”
“Karsen, let it go.”
“Why are you getting so mad? I really don’t understand, Dad?”
He stood and looked down at her. “Your mother is gone, Karsen. It was her tradition. Not yours!” Frustrated, and not knowing the right thing to do, he clicked off the television, bid them both goodnight and retired to his bedroom.
“He’s being unreasonable,” Karsen said, lowering her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was fight.
“Sis, he’s grieving. Give it time.”
“But the funeral is Saturday. If he resists, it’ll be too late.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Brad promised. He knew how much the tradition meant to his mother. There was no doubt in his mind she would rather keep it going than have the necklace herself. “I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Do you want one?”
“Sure.”
Brad stood up and went to the kitchen. He heated up two cups of cocoa with a hint of Baileys mixed in each. Returning, he handed a mug to Karsen and took up residence again in the old lounge chair where he had been sitting before.
“Thanks,” she said taking a sip. The hot liquid finally warmed her from the inside and momentarily calmed her lingering frustration. She still couldn’t fathom why her father was so angry over the necklace. He was normally so easy-going. Then again, under the circumstances, how could she expect anything to be normal?
Karsen woke in the morning and stumbled groggily into the kitchen. There was a loud thud as her big toe slammed against the kitchen island’s baseboard. “Oooouch!” she screamed. She looked over at Brad who was still in the recliner where he’d fallen asleep the night before. He didn’t budge. From his position, she doubted he had moved the entire night. Through the back window, she could see her dad smoking on the patio, a nasty habit he refused to break. She had always feared he would be the first to go. Never had she imagined her mom would be first. Her mom had been the picture of perfect health.
Noticing the brewed coffee steaming in the pot, Karsen quietly thanked her dad. The aroma held a hint of cinnamon, just like her mother always made it. The now familiar twinge of regret and remorse passed through her as she reflected again on the last visit with her mom.
“I know he’s attractive, Karsen, but I just don’t get why you want to tie yourself down,” her mother had said.
“Because I love him, Mom. What’s not to like? He’s the whole package.”
“I don’t know, Karsen…I think you’re limiting your options and you’re focusing on having a family instead of a career. What you think you want now may be different than what you want in say…five years. You’re so young and you have plenty of time.”
“Urgh! You just don’t get it.” Karsen snapped, giving her mother a half-hearted hug goodbye. The scene replayed over and over again in her mind. Not “I love you, Mom,” not even “Goodbye.” Had she known it was the last time she’d see her, certainly she would have controlled the meaningless bickering. Her heart longed for one more chance. One chance to rewind life just long enough to end things with her mother on a loving memory instead of with a strained, petty disagreement over her choice of men. She wondered if the feeling of regret would ever go away.
She opened the cupboard to grab a mug and broke into a slight grin. “Unbelievable,” she whispered to herself, cherry picking the Tweety Bird mug she’d received on her tenth birthday from among a mishmash of others.
She filled her cup, then parked herself on one of the bar stools lining the counter of the island. Nursing her sore toe as she held the mug close to her chin, she closed her eyes and allowed the steam from the coffee to penetrate her face before taking a sip. As she opened her eyes, she noticed Brad’s keychain lying on the counter. She ran her finger over the link – a silver charm in the shape of a puzzle piece. She pulled the chain from beneath her sweatshirt and held the two pieces together. They slid together perfectly.
“Hey,” muttered Brad, finally stirring back to the land of the living.
Startled by her brother’s voice, Karsen quickly placed the keychain back on the counter and stuffed her necklace back under her shirt. She didn’t feel up to revisiting last night’s drama.
“Morning, sunshine,” Karsen replied. Sliding off her perch, she walked back over to the cabinet for another mug and poured Brad some coffee.
�
�Thanks,” he muttered, and then groaned as he stretched and managed to lift his stiff body out of the chair. “Man, was I beat.” He smoothed back his black, wavy hair from his face and joined her at the counter. “Not the best chair to sleep in overnight.”
“No kidding.” She laughed and pushed the mug toward him.
Brad poured a dollop of vanilla-flavored creamer into his cup and swirled it with a spoon. He added a sizeable amount more and watched as the dark, black liquid molted into a smooth, creamy blend of more creamer than coffee.
“Do you think he’s okay out there?” Karsen asked, looking out to the patio.
Brad’s gaze followed hers and saw their dad sitting alone on the porch. “I don’t know. It’ll probably take awhile. I hear it’s after the funeral that’s the hardest, when the house is silent. He hasn’t been alone in thirty years.”
“The viewing isn’t until four. I was thinking we probably need to help clean up the house. Not that I want to spend today cleaning, but we’ve only got two days before we leave.”
“You read my mind. I was thinking the same thing,” agreed Brad. “I’m sure he’ll be pissed if we touch any of her personal things, but straightening up a bit couldn’t hurt. There is more stuff in this house than I’ve ever seen. We probably need to make sure this month’s bills are paid, too. One less task for him to worry about.”
“Mom really took care of everything, huh?”
“She also kept everything, the pack rat.”
Brad grinned, finally noticing the mug Karsen chose for him. He looked funny – a little too manly perhaps – as he lifted the Spider Man mug he was drinking from and clinked it against Karsen’s Tweety Bird mug as if in a toast.
That afternoon, they sorted through what seemed to be their entire childhood histories. Moments they had forgotten flooded back through piles of dusty birthday cards, photographs and outdated articles of clothing. At times, Karsen began to understand why her mom had held onto so many things. Karsen had been the one recommending her mother clear out the clutter for years. Intellectually, she knew that they were only things – material items with little to no value. Emotionally, she couldn’t fathom letting any of her history go.
4
Returning from the funeral service, their father excused himself and retreated straight to bed. Following Brad into the family room, Karsen slipped out of her shoes and sat down on the sofa. She rubbed her feet, which still ached from standing in high heels for three long hours. Between the viewing the day before and now the funeral, she felt completely exhausted.
“You think he’s down for the night?” Karsen asked. It was only eight o’clock.
Brad popped the top off the bottle of Amber Boch he had retrieved from the fridge and settled back in the recliner. His tie hung awkwardly, partly untied around his neck. “Probably. I’m sure he’s beat. I know I am. Could you believe how many people came? The entire town showed up, I think.”
“Did you happen to see that one guy in the back during the service?”
“Didn’t notice anyone in particular. Why?”
“It just seemed odd that he was standing back by the door instead of coming in, almost like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.”
“Do you think he knew Mom? Or knows us? Maybe from growing up?”
“Maybe. There were so many people I didn’t know, but most people introduced themselves and gave their condolences. I don’t remember seeing him afterwards at all.”
“Huh. Who knows?” Brad didn’t think it worth pondering over. “I’m sure it was nothing. Maybe he was a funeral crasher looking for free food.” He smiled broadly.
“Not funny, Brad.”
She flung a couch pillow at him, which he caught mid-air with one hand. He shook his head at her then sipped his beer and grabbed the remote to turn on the television. He searched through the channels, finding an old, overplayed sitcom that he could probably recite by memory. It was mindless but neither of them had the energy to care. They sat and watched in silence.
The next morning was Sunday. Opening her semi-blurred eyes, from not having removed her contacts the night before, Karsen glanced out the bedroom window, which looked out to the front street. She saw a worn red, four-door sedan sitting across the way. The car seemed out of place, but she shook it off. After all, she didn’t live here anymore and it was probably just the neighbors.
She wobbled to the bathroom. Photos from her childhood adorned the otherwise bare white walls along the way. Karsen had lived in the house for eighteen years and had never paid much attention to the décor or her mother’s style. It was just simply home. Now, though, every detail seemed to jump out at her. The house had an old-fashioned, Brady Bunch feel about it. Certainly different from what you see in the latest edition of Trend Home magazine. Elementary school photos from every year filled the edges around an oval frame with her high school senior picture highlighted in the center. She was just three years older now, but this morning, it felt like thirty.
She found her saline solution on the bathroom counter and placed a drop into each eye. After several blinks, her contacts resumed their moisture and she could once again see clearly.
“Shit,” she groaned, wishing now she couldn’t. Looking at herself in the mirror, she looked shabby, no, more like pathetic, she thought. Her eyes were red and swollen both from incessant crying and lack of proper sleep. “If James could see me now,” she mumbled, as she turned on the water to rinse the remnants from the prior day’s eyeliner that still rimmed her eyes in a raccoon-like circle.
When she got back to her room, she checked her cell phone for what seemed like the hundredth time. There were no missed calls. No messages. James had not even called yesterday, the day of her mother’s funeral. Perhaps he had called the house instead of her cell and chose not to leave a message. She tried to justify his actions, but deep down all she longed for was to hear his voice.
Karsen joined Brad in the kitchen. She opened the kitchen pantry, remembering precisely where every dish, plate and food could be found. For over twenty years, her mother had maintained the same organization. The pantry was stocked full and looked as though it could easily feed a family of ten through a year of famine.
Brad pulled out the pancake mix and one of several bottles of syrup while Karsen started the coffee. “I actually think I’m hungry,” Karsen said, realizing she hadn’t eaten a full meal since they left Arizona.
“Did I say I was making any for you?” Brad held the box of mix over her head as if to pour the complete contents out. Physically he was stronger than her, as most men naturally were, but he was barely taller in height. She grabbed the box and tugged it from his hands, dusting them both in white powder.
“Nice try, Big Brother.” She extended her right leg in a roundhouse kick, coming inches from his privates. He instinctively covered his unit with both hands. “Hey, watch it!”
“At least my hours of kick-boxing classes come in handy for something.” She stuck her tongue out at him like they were children. As Brad cleaned up their mess, Karsen set down the box of mix on the counter and proceeded to pull out the griddle and a mixing bowl. They then worked together to make the pancakes.
“Mmmm…I smell coffee.” Their father groggily rounded the corner.
“Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty,” teased Karsen.
“No wait, he’d have to be the Beast,” Brad said with a chuckle.
“No, that’s a different story, idiot.”
“Oh, whatever. What the hell do I know about fairy tales?”
“Bickering banter. Your mom always laughed at it,” Carl said wistfully, shaking his head with a smile. “But you both drive me bonkers.”
Karsen blew him a kiss like she did as a child. His hand grasped the air to catch it, then motioned as if to put it in his pocket. “For later,” he said with a wink. Karsen returned what she always deemed her dad’s greatest gesture of affection with a perfect, gleaming white smile.
“You slept over twel
ve hours,” Karsen said in amazement, as his usual allotment hardly surpassed five or six.
“It’s the first real sleep I’ve gotten since…well, since the accident. Guess it caught up with me,” he replied.
“Probably the anxiety over all the arrangements didn’t help,” Brad said.
“You guys did more than I did. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
“Starve.” Karsen smirked and handed him a plate stacked with pancakes warm from the griddle.
“Thanks.” He poured a mound of warm maple syrup overtop, the sweet aroma making his mouth water before he took the first bite.
“What did you want to do today, Dad?” Karsen asked.
“I thought I’d go to the cemetery and then out to the boat. Sitting here has too many reminders of her.” He paused realizing he’d planned to be alone. “That is, if you guys don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. I’m fine just relaxing,” Karsen said.
“Whatever you want, Dad.” Brad patted his back. “I need to work on some new material for my next show anyway.” He’d given his first performance at the Improv a year prior and his growing interest in stand-up had blossomed into a flourishing hobby. His last act created such a buzz, he wanted to make sure his next performance surpassed it.
“And I’ve got homework I should do.” Karsen added to make her dad feel less guilty about leaving them.
After their father headed out, Brad settled into his favorite chair.
Feeling less than enthusiastic about tackling her homework, Karsen felt the need to explore, although she wasn’t sure what she was looking for or why. She entered her parents’ bedroom. The room looked eerily unchanged from what she remembered growing up.
Moving to the closet, she felt the different textures as she guided her fingers across her mother’s clothes. The closet would need to be cleared out at some point, but for now she knew her dad would not allow it. She held her mother’s navy blue cardigan up to her face and inhaled the few traces of her mom’s lingering scent. The previous day’s emotions hastily tore at her heart. She sank to her knees on the floor as the tears spontaneously flowed once again.