Naturally, he would, the optimist. His eagerness to believe in something good—to see the best—defined my husband. I couldn’t match his attitude, so responded in the only way I knew how.
“Come on.” I dragged him to the bedroom, and this time, he followed. I stripped him down to the skin. He took over from there, until I took the lead again. We were living in the moment, a timeframe I could manage.
In the end, we were a collapsed tangle of arms and legs as we gasped for breath. But for those few minutes, pain had given way to pleasure right down to my toes, as I knew it would. Lovemaking allowed me to escape reality, recharge, and face the next day.
There would always be a next day—lots and lots of them—for however long I lived. And somehow, I’d have to get through each one of them.
“I should have waited to clean his room,” I wailed, staring at Ian’s gift to Maddy.
Propped on his pillow stood a hand-drawn graphic he’d called Girl Power. I wasn’t ready for it. Wasn’t ready to see Kayla and Maddy in their fantastical uniforms—including capes— guarding Heaven and Earth. Bold red and yellow for Maddy, perfect with her dark hair; bright green and yellow for Kayla, enriching her auburn shade. The girls flew, fingers almost touching. And surrounding them, scattered everywhere, were stars, flowers, balloons, kites, and the faces of children.
“Wow!” Jack stared in disbelief. “I knew he could draw, but...but this is terrific.”
An understatement. But I, of course, couldn’t take my eyes from Kayla’s image. Swallowing hard, I brushed my fingers across her face. “Miss you, sweetheart, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”
Jack twirled toward me. “This isn’t about Kayla or you,” he said. “It’s about Maddy. Can’t you figure out what Ian’s done?”
“Maddy’ll take one look and start crying,” I replied.
“No, no. This is a happy picture. Ian’s giving her a message. Girl Power. Maddy has the power to do anything, including getting on with her own life. Naturally, her friendship with Kayla is part of her, but I think this picture will take the edge off her sadness. It’ll give her permission to be happy again.”
Peering at my husband, I said, “You have a habit of seeing only what you want to see. Only the bright side. I bet this picture can be interpreted a hundred different ways.”
He started to speak, but I patted his hand. “This time, Jack, I hope you’re right.”
Not only for Maddy’s sake but for mine. I couldn’t bear adding the death of a child’s spirit to my list of transgressions.
Chapter 10
JACK
Sunday, one year after accident
September again. A year could seem like forever, at least to me. Today the entire family was gathering at the cemetery for a memorial service and then lunching at our favorite Tex-Mex place. This commemoration was Claire’s idea, and I went along with it. So now, I was dressed up in a black suit and tie—also Claire’s idea—but the damn tie’s choking me. Why in hell did I need a tie? Kayla wouldn’t care. Before I could rip it off my neck, however, Claire was in front of me loosening it. One whiff of her familiar light fragrance and I pulled her close, realizing once again how waif-like she’d become.
“Look in the mirror, Claire. I’m glad we’re going to Casa Olé later. You need those calories!” She was beyond slender now, heading toward skinny. Her cheekbones—both sets!—were sharp. When she sat on my lap, her bottom dug into my thighs.
“Oh, don’t start that again. I eat all the time, just in little bits. Didn’t you like the shrimp and veggies I made yesterday?”
“Loved them. But I wish you’d eat more.”
“Trust me, Jack. I’m tasting while I cook. That’s how I know I’m good.”
She forced a smile, and I had to admit she was trying. Even at work, she and Barbara had become a team, and the design center was finally operating smoothly. She also went into her studio most evenings, leaving me in the house with the TV. I’d respect her choice more if she didn’t fall into bed exhausted, but I wouldn’t call her on it. Painting kept her busy, gave her less time to brood.
I kissed her and wanted to cry. Her blond hair was half gray again. She’d never gone back to her salon after the first visit. I’d see if Judy could book another appointment. Or I would. I’d insist. Claire was the artist. She knew the color wasn’t flattering, and neither was the way she’s pulled her hair into a rubber band.
What was she doing to herself? She brushed away my concerns as though they meant nothing. Clair was still beautiful in my eyes, but her indifference frightened me, and I was afraid to press her with more questions.
Sometimes I didn’t think she was any further along than she was in the beginning. Maybe this one-year anniversary would be a new starting point. Maybe her grief would ease. Maybe mine would too. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“Time to leave, honey,” I said after glancing at my watch. “It’s almost nine. Ian should be here any minute.” I headed toward the kitchen just as the doorbell rang. Claire lagged a few steps behind me.
A moment later, I hugged my son and didn’t want to let go. “Right on time, buddy. But you don’t have to ring the bell. Use your key. This is still your home.”
He shrugged. “So...how’s it going? How’s...Mom?” His voice cracked on the last syllable. He must not have noticed Claire yet. I stepped aside. “Ask her yourself.”
Ian hadn’t seen his mother all summer, not since he’d moved out. I’d met him for dinner a couple of times, but Claire had had five o’clock customer appointments on those days. She’d only spoken with him on the phone. But now, her eyes lit up when she saw her son.
“Your job must agree with you,” she said before kissing his cheek. “You’ve filled out a bit. Looking good.”
“Th-thanks.”
He stared at his mother, and I could read his shock and concern before he shut down. “I brought flowers,” he finally said. “They’re in the truck. I’ll get them.” He dashed outside, and I followed him.
He was leaning against the beater, arms raised on the door frame, body shaking.
“Ian! What’s the matter?”
He whirled toward me, tears evident. “Why didn’t you tell me she was sick? Is she dying too?”
“No, no! Of course not. She’s not dying. She just has a hard time enjoying food. Depression can do that. Besides, she’s working hard at the company. Now that I think of it, I bet she forgets to eat. I’ll tell Grandma to carve out a lunch hour.”
“Good. Make her eat.”
My son was scared, still just a kid in a world turned upside down, still needing both his parents. But now he was pretending to be a man, independent, beyond needing a mother or father. Of course, all swaggering eighteen-year-old boys pretended to be men. I went through the same rite-of-passage but didn’t have to prove myself while mourning a sibling.
“She’ll be okay, Ian. This depression won’t last forever.”
“Yes, it will. Kayla is forever. The accident is forever. Mom will never get over it.”
Was he right? He spoke with such conviction that I remained quiet for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “I’m told the shock will recede. Grieving is a process we’re all going through, including you. Aunt Judy once mentioned the idea of a support group. I’ve been thinking about joining one. Want to try it?”
Claire had dismissed the idea. She wasn’t sharing her heartache with strangers. However, that didn’t mean Ian would feel the same way. But he was shaking his head before I’d finished the question.
“No time. I can’t get away too much. New job and all....”
Did the kid think I had time to spare? “And we want to hear everything.” I dropped the painful subject and glanced at my watch again. “Damn, we’ve got to leave now or we’ll be late.”
As it turned out, we arrived at the cemetery before the others—I think. Although no one else appeared to be in the vicinity of Kayla’s final resting place, a lovely wreath leaned against the headstone.
&n
bsp; “Could your folks have come and gone already?” I asked Claire, pointing to the remembrance. My in-laws were strong people, all things considered, but perhaps they wanted to mark the occasion privately.
“They’re pulling up now. And your parents are right behind them.” She shrugged. “Maybe a friend stopped by. People visit here all the time. Some even bring their lunch and a book to read. It’s a beautiful place, the green lawn easy on the eyes, restful and quiet. I’ve become a regular lately, and I’m rarely alone.”
A regular? She’d never mentioned her visits to me, and I was too stunned to comment. Not in a million years would I have chosen to picnic in a graveyard.
As Claire and I turned to greet the family, Ian walked the other way with his flowers and laid them next to the wreath. He needn’t have bothered. If I knew my wife, she’d be rearranging everyone’s offerings until the ensemble was as beautiful a design as she could make it. Kayla deserved, and would receive, only her mom’s best efforts.
My jaw tightened as I considered her search for perfection. What about Ian? What about me? We needed her best efforts too, now more than ever.
Chapter 11
IAN
After I laid my flowers next to the wreath, I spotted the card attached to it and read: I’ll never forget what happened that day. You’re in my prayers morning and evening. Rest in peace.
No signature, but I knew who wrote it. Call it gut instinct. Call it intuition. But a clear image of Sarah, the driver, formed in my head. I tore the card off and stuck it in my pocket. I hadn’t thought too much about the woman behind the wheel since a couple of weeks after the accident. I didn’t want to think about her now. I didn’t like thinking about that day at all. Especially the part when my mother yelled, Ian, how could you have let this happen? right before she jumped into the ambulance, just before the EMT slammed the door closed. Leaving me alone on the street.
Shit! I didn’t need this. I didn’t even want to be here. I wanted to get back to my new life. My new job. New people. Friendly, upbeat people like Colleen Murphy. Pretty Colleen Murphy. It blew my mind how a distance of only fifty miles turned out to be a totally new world, a new future for me, uncluttered by family problems.
“Ian, Ian. It’s so good to see you.”
Grandma Barbara. Hugs and kisses followed her greeting, then Grandma Pearl had to join in. I towered over them both, but somehow they managed to get lipstick on my face. I felt their arms tighten around me and, unexpectedly, I didn’t want to let go. A wave of comfort, of familiarity. A wave of love sucked me in, and I kissed them back.
“You should come around more often, sweetheart,” said Grandma Pearl. “We miss you so much, and we don’t even have your new phone number!”
“I can fix that,” I said. “Got any paper?”
Of course they did because ladies’ purses always contained a warehouse worth of stuff. I wrote down the number on two sheets, and my grandmas clasped them as though they were college diplomas with summa cum laude designations.
“Give me another copy for Aunt Judy,” said Grandma Barbara, gesturing toward my mom’s sister. “You’ll be hearing from her after today. The phone’s attached to her ear.”
I grinned and scribbled. Then my mom walked over to us.
“Do you know who brought the wreath?” she asked, pointing to the floral assortment. “It must have been dropped off yesterday. I’d like to acknowledge it.”
“Sorry. No clue.” Instinct wasn’t the same as a real clue, so I hadn’t lied.
Mom shrugged. “Oh, well.... Come with me, Ian. The minister is going to start speaking. Let’s stand with Dad as a family so Kayla will know we’re fine.” Was she kidding? “Mom? Are you really fine? You don’t look so great. I almost didn’t recognize you this morning. Kayla wouldn’t either.”
She shrugged and gazed over my shoulder. “You know I’ve been busy. Working, painting. I’m on the go all day, just like Daddy wanted. Now, please, let’s stand together. For Kayla’s sake.”
But not for mine. My mother still blamed me for the accident. She parroted what she thought a mom ought to say, but I knew her true feelings. I was irresponsible and immature. Now, she couldn’t even look me in the eye. I wanted to remind her about the hundred other times Kayla and I tossed a football in the front yard without a problem, but it wouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t bring Kayla back.
So maybe she was right. I may not have wanted to babysit, but I had been in charge that day. The accident happened on my watch. Now Mom wanted to pretend we were still a close family so Kayla wouldn’t know the truth. Didn’t she understand that her daughter wasn’t here anymore?
I’d already said enough, however, and kept my mouth shut as I stood between my folks for the intimate service. I accommodated my mother, but not for Kayla’s sake. It was for Grandma Barbara and Grandpa Mike, Grandma Pearl and Grandpa Dave, standing behind us, who loved my sister and me to infinity and back no matter what. Why should I heap more pain on my grandparents? My sister wouldn’t like that. Wouldn’t want that.
Kayla may not have walked the earth anymore, but if heaven existed, she was there now, and I knew she was smiling at me and nodding her head.
I bowed my own.
Sunday night
I was wiped out after dealing with my family at Kayla’s memorial service. Trying to make the four grandparents laugh, support my dad, and be nice to my mom was more exhausting than playing a forty-eight-minute varsity basketball game. Living on my own was the best—the only—decision I could have made.
I returned to my improved but still sorry-looking apartment with a sense of relief and bags full of leftovers, each packed and labeled in a plastic container. My mother made sure of that. She never wasted leftovers, whether from a restaurant or her own kitchen. Danny used to say both our moms were afflicted with the “just in case” syndrome. Just in case an army invaded, they’d be ready to feed ’em. The overstocked Goldberg kitchen was a great alternative to ours. Last year, it was the only alternative.
Now Dan was a freshman at the University of Texas in Austin, and I was a pipefitter at Gulf Coast Oil. He was a happy Longhorn. I was a happy apprentice, thanks to acing the job interview, which wasn’t too difficult with my Honors Chemistry, math, and plumbing background. It was all working out—not that I could have predicted it.
On my first day at the plant in the middle of June, I was chewing my lip. No nerves of steel then. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I was there. I kept picturing my dad and wondering if I’d betrayed him. But that was three months ago, and I didn’t worry about it anymore. Especially not since meeting Colleen.
Opening the fridge, I shoved the food inside, glad suppers would be taken care of for a couple of days, then powered up my computer. Emails first. Maybe Colleen had posted. We’d become pretty friendly, but I’d sure like to change that to very friendly.
I spotted her name right away. She’d logged on in the morning after I’d left the apartment.
A group of us are going to the lake. Wanna come?
I didn’t know who the group was, but I would have joined them in a nanosecond just to be with Colleen—if today hadn’t been Kayla’s memorial service.
Hi Colleen, Sorry to miss it, but thanks for asking. I had family stuff. How about next week? And I’ll see you tomorrow.
I couldn’t wait for morning. Couldn’t believe that three months ago, I’d walked into the Isomerization Unit wondering how I went from being the boss’s son in a family business to a tiny cog in the huge wheel called Gulf Coast Oil. I was one of hundreds working to refine petroleum. As I’d looked at my new surroundings, all the changes I’d made in my life began to hit me. They’d been my choices, but now I was tense, feeling out of place. Then I’d seen Colleen Murphy, the unit clerk.
I’d taken one look at Colleen on that first day and tripped over my tongue, couldn’t even produce a “good morning.” She was so pretty, with bouncy reddish-brown hair like cinnamon, bright green eyes, and a frien
dly smile. She said hello as if she were really glad to see me. The truth? I was glad to see her. I was a stranger in a strange land, and I needed a friend. When Colleen said hello, my tension disappeared.
Next email, Danny.
How bad was today? Sorry not to be there. How’s the new girlfriend?
Danny lived three hours away. No car freshman year, and I hadn’t expected him to come home for the memorial. But I liked him thinking about me. Not everything had changed.
My reply: I survived thanks to my grandparents. My mom’s the same. As to the “girlfriend”—don’t I wish!
Nothing got Colleen down, and I loved that attitude. A year ago, she and her family left a hardscrabble life in east Texas and moved some ten miles from the plant. She drove an old Chevy in worse shape than my truck. Colleen knew troubles up close and personal but somehow didn’t let them bother her. She had her goals too. And shared them that first week.
“C’mon, city boy. You’re in for a surprise. Wednesday is open-mic night at the Roadhouse Café. And I’m taking you.”
“Hey, slow down,” I said. “I’m all for learning new things and meeting new people, but I can’t carry a tune. I’m no singer.”
She grinned up at me. “But I am.”
By six o’clock, the place was crowded. We ordered a burger and fries first. I had a draft; she sipped water. By seven o’clock, you couldn’t find a seat. When Colleen got ready to sing, I gave up the table and stood near the small stage, watching her reach for the microphone and smile at the crowd.
She hadn’t been kidding. With her first note, I knew she was special. With her second, I was mesmerized. A moment more and she held the entire room under her spell. Somehow, her voice combined the emotion and clarity of Patsy Cline, my Grandma Pearl’s favorite, with the contemporary feel of Carrie Underwood. I didn’t recognize the song, “The Journey.”
“A new one,” whispered the guy next to me. “Colleen’s been writin’ again.”
Then what the hell was she doing working in a refinery? It didn’t take me any time at all to answer my own question: money. Like me, she’d just gotten out of high school, but I’d guess her pockets were emptier than mine. I’d been paid fairly for three summers and all holidays with my dad. I couldn’t imagine Colleen earning the same.
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