Family Interrupted

by Barrett, Linda

  At first, I’d hoped she called just to chat. To catch up. If she was short on topics, I could have supplied some—

  How about our Houston weather? How’s work? Do you like your job? What about those Astros? How’s your life? Or I could have brought up the forbidden topic myself. “Do you want to talk about that horrible day?”

  I had to accept that my mom didn’t care about anyone but Kayla. And maybe a little about Dad. But he was still swallowing those antacid pills all the time, so she couldn’t really be supporting him. Their anniversary was coming up. I wondered if they’d celebrate. Wasn’t betting on it.

  Chapter 13

  CLAIRE

  An hour after Jack left for the office on Saturday morning, Judy rapped at my kitchen door and walked in unannounced. I was about to start the dishwasher but forgot to press the button when I saw her. My petite sister stood straight and tall, reminding me of a fire-breathing Viking. I cocked my head, confused.

  “What are you doing here? I thought your boys had soccer practice on Saturdays.”

  “Charlie can take them. You come first with me today,” she replied. “You need an intervention, and I’m the one to do it. Get dressed. We’ve got an appointment with Juanita in an hour.”

  I touched my hair, glanced out the back window toward my studio, then looked at Judy. “Sorry, I’m working. I-I started something new yesterday. In clay.”

  “That can wait,” she said. “The clay’s not going anywhere, but you are, and I’m not kidding.” Hands on her hips, she glared at me, but I glimpsed her pained expression before she could hide it. “I swear to God,” she said, “I’ll pull you into the shower if I have to. Now, get going.”

  Judy was normally a thoughtful, gentle girl, my friend as well as kid sister. Seemed she’d had a personality shift. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m not going to let you drown yourself, Claire. Jack’s afraid you’re going backwards. Ian worries too. And Mom. You see her a couple of times a week. Haven’t you noticed that she’s lost weight just like you?”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t noticed.

  “Yeah. Oh,” she parroted.

  “But...but... I go to the office. I do my job. I make Jack happy.” But inside, I scared myself. I was afraid, afraid to tell them that sometimes my chest hurt so bad I could hardly speak. “Kayla....” My voice broke.

  Judy reached up and cupped my face. Her tears pooled. “I know, Claire. We all know. And we all miss her terribly.” Stepping back, she wiped her eyes hard. “But I also know that you can’t die too. I want my sister back.”

  “And I want my daughter.” A third voice.

  We both swiveled toward our mother. “Was that ten minutes?” complained Judy.

  “Did you really think I’d wait that long?” Barbara Anderson, in full lioness mode, zoomed in on me. This was not the person who showed up at Barnes Construction twice a week. Definitely not.“Get dressed and let’s go.”

  But I didn’t want to go. I didn’t care about a stupid haircut. And I certainly didn’t like them sweeping into my house with orders. My pulse rate soared. My skin burned. “Sorry for your wasted time,” I said, crossing to the door and pulling it open. “I’ll get my hair done when I’m ready, and that’s not today. Just leave me alone.”

  Judy grabbed the door right out of my hand and slammed it shut. “No. Can. Do. You’ve not been doing your best, and we don’t want you hiding away and feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Sorry for myself? How dare they! Had they walked in my shoes? I couldn’t get the words out.

  “You’re coming with us.” I turned toward my mother, whose no-nonsense voice echoed the sound of my girlhood memories. Barbara was still acting like my mom. I stared at the woman I knew so well and whom I resembled. I recognized her bravado, smelled her fear.

  My neck swung around toward Judy, who continued to stare at me, chin up with challenge. Beyond her overt dare, however, I sensed a long-held breath waiting for release.

  I couldn’t fight them both. They loved me; they didn’t blame me for what happened. How could they when I’d never told them why I was so late getting home, how Colombo had singled me out and how I’d reveled in his attention? I would have remained in the studio with him longer had I not seen the clock. I must have been developing a significant crush on the guy. The possibility made me wince and added to my sins.

  If I’d left class on time that day, I would have changed history. That is a fact for which I will never forgive myself, but my family doesn’t have to suffer more than necessary.

  “You win, ladies. Let’s see if Juanita can make miracles.”

  Juanita sat me down and muttered to herself as she hefted and stroked my hair. “Hay caramba, Ms. Claire! I can fix the color, but the shine is gone, the weight is going. What happened? It was better last time I saw you. So now you must eat protein. Salmon, fish, dark green vegetables, beans, nuts. Comprende? Yes? Eat protein, protein. Eggs are very good.”

  “Slow down,” said Judy, “I’m taking notes. And she will eat the right foods if I have to spoon-feed her myself. She could also cut down on the caffeine. How many cups of coffee can one person drink?”

  “Exactly,” said Juanita, still mumbling about my lousy hair.

  “Ahem. I’m right here,” I said, waving my fingers. “And my ears still work. I can hear you.” The entire scene suddenly struck me as absurd, and I felt my lips turn up. I almost laughed.

  “She’s making a joke! How about that?” said Mom.

  “I’m writing that down too. It’ll raise Jack’s spirits.”

  I loved these women, these women who had my back when I could barely straighten my spine.

  An hour later, I was a blonde again—with highlights. My hair was bobbing at its usual shoulder length, and I felt surprisingly good.

  “Last Sunday, Ian thought Kayla wouldn’t know me anymore,” I said as we walked to Judy’s car. “But now she will.”

  Judy halted her step, tipped her head back for the umpteenth time that day, and looked me square in the eye. “I know what he said about Kayla. He made the comment because she’s all you think about. But what about us, Claire? What about the living? Don’t we count anymore?”

  They counted only if I didn’t allow my guilt to swallow me whole. Oh, God, why had I lingered so often in my studio when Kayla wanted to gab about her friends? About which girl liked which boy in school? Mindless chatter I’d sometimes brushed aside as unimportant....

  My mom started to cry. “Claire, Claire...my heart’s broken too. Forever. Kayla was the sun and the moon and the stars to me. My only granddaughter. And now I worry that I’m losing you as well. You have to try to live again. You must live among the living.”

  Her words echoed. I’d heard something similar before. Leaning against the car, I whispered, “Jack said that once. He said he couldn’t go on without both his girls.”

  Judy stared at me as though I were a child. “Of course he can’t. You’ve always been his one and only. All these years. In fact, I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t part of this family. Now, get into the car.” She opened the front passenger door for me and said, “Let’s pay Jack a visit. I definitely want to see his reaction to your makeover. And then we’re going out for lunch.”

  “Right,” said Mom, her finger pointing at my chest. “A relaxed lunch. You’ll eat salmon and chicken and spinach. You heard Juanita. You need protein.” The woman opened her door with vigor and got into the back seat. At seventy-one years young, my mother wouldn’t—couldn’t—be ignored.

  The women in my life were acting like a couple of storm troopers, and I’d be overruled if I objected to lunching at a restaurant.

  Once in the car, I pulled down my visor and grimaced in the mirror. I pulled the corners of my mouth up with my fingers.

  “What the heck are you doing?” asked Judy, glancing at me.

  I gave her a wolf grin. “Practicing how to smile. It’s hard.”

  She burst out laughing. “Oh,
my God, Claire. You can still be funny.” Patting my arm, she said, “You’ll be all right, sweetie. You’re on your way now.”

  Being “all right” was the end game. I knew that. The hard part was getting from here to there. And I’d been hiding, hiding behind my mother. While she dealt with the customers, I went on site visits early or late in the day, checking paint colors, the placement of furniture and accent pieces right down to the coordinated bath towels. I studied blueprints and ordered items by phone. I didn’t have to “put a smile on my face.” She did. I just had to focus on the work.

  Judy pulled up in front of Barnes Construction. “I’m always impressed by how beautiful the building is. A bit different from when you started out.”

  “Just like our house,” I said. “Except at home, most of the improvements are on the inside.”

  We lived in the same family-friendly neighborhood we’d lived in since Ian was a baby. Jack had built the house, one of his first projects, and we’d been so happy there, we’d never considered moving. Until now. Until I’d brought it up because of Ian. But Jack hadn’t mentioned it again now that Ian was really on his own.

  Mom, Judy, and I walked up the steps and opened the door. In the reception area, Jack had used a variety of materials to educate visitors. Granite counters and tabletops caught the eye; large ceramic floor tiles installed on an angle added sophistication and the illusion of extra space. In the center of the lobby was a big display showcasing miniature home models. Large easels held visuals of subdivisions under construction, which featured Barnes homes.

  “He could be anywhere,” I said, taking out my cell phone.

  A minute later, Jack danced into the lobby, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “What a treat! Wow.”

  He kissed each of us, stepped back a pace, and stared at me. “You’re gorgeous, Claire-de-Lune.” His shaky hand brushed my hair, lifting a section. Then he hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe. “My wife’s back,” he whispered.

  “We’re taking her out to lunch,” said Judy. “Can you join us?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother’s brow rise as she gave Jack a look—one of those conspiratorial looks between people who’ve got a secret. And then I understood. He’d known about this. My husband had been part of this little intervention.

  I could feel the fire growing inside me as I stared at my conniving family before pivoting toward Jack. If I’d been two years old, I’d have lain on the floor and kicked my heels. Instead, I had to rely on puny words.

  “You sneaky…sneaky…how dare you? Don’t you ever scheme behind my back again. Twenty-three years can be undone like that,” I said, snapping my fingers. “I don’t appreciate being manipulated by anyone, but especially not by you.”

  Jack’s glare seared me, but before he could speak, my sister rushed in.

  “Well, that’s too damn bad,” she said. “Because we’re not giving up on you. You don’t scare me, you don’t scare Mom, and you don’t scare Jack. It’s tough-love time, big sister. And that’s what you’re going to keep getting from us.

  “So, is it shrimp or salmon, Claire?”

  I wanted to throw up.

  Chapter 14

  JACK

  Conspiring with my in-laws had been a no-brainer. When Barbara and Judy came up with their intervention plan, I heartily endorsed it and wondered why I hadn’t consulted with them much earlier. Tough love. I thought the concept was reserved for problematic children, but my sister-in-law didn’t seem to have any qualms about adopting the method with Claire.

  Some people might think we were being unreasonable, that a year was barely long enough to absorb the bitter truth about Kayla. With most people, they’d be right. But Claire was pushing us all away. I knew she was only going through the motions at work. She was getting it done, but there was no zip, no enthusiasm. She ignored the phone at home and would do the same at the office if she could. The only person she saw outside the family was her friend Anne with whom she jogged a couple of nights a week.

  After her outburst, Claire sat next to me in the back seat of Judy’s car. She stared out her side window, not speaking, her fingers turning white as they clutched the straps of her purse. She was sizzling because I “manipulated” her. I caressed her hand, putting mine over hers.

  “Come on, Claire,” I whispered. “Relax. You know we love you. Try to enjoy yourself. It’s only a lunch, and you’re with your favorite people.”

  With a quick movement, she freed her hand from mine. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

  “Well, if you don’t sweeten up, you won’t be their favorite either.”

  “Stop talking to me like I’m a child. You betrayed me, and right now, I don’t give a flying fig about any of you. In fact, I don’t give a flying fuck. Especially about you.”

  Ow. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard Claire use the ultimate of swear words. And never had she aimed it at me. I stifled a smile and refused to worry. Our nights were still going strong.

  “A flying fig? Really, Claire? I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  “Really, Jack?” she mimicked, swiveling to face me before shouting, “You act like you don’t even miss her. Like you don’t even know she’s gone. The world’s the same to you. You get up, go to work, and come home, talking about the business like it was important or something.”

  My brain got stuck on “not miss her.” Not miss my sweet daughter?

  “What the hell would you have me do?” I shouted. “Let the company go bankrupt? Someone has to turn it around. Someone has to keep promises made to customers and staff. I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. It does matter to me. And it should matter to you.”

  Judy pulled the car to the curb. My mother-in-law began crying. But I wasn’t finished yet.

  “And don’t you ever—ever—tell me how I feel about Kayla. Not miss her? Maybe you’re losing your mind because only a woman not thinking straight could say something like that...about me!”

  Breathing hurt. I dragged air into my lungs and heaved it out. More quietly, I added, “You think you own the corner on grief, Claire, but you don’t. I just put on a better front—for your sake—so I won’t drag you down further than you are. One of us has to function normally.”

  “My hero.”

  Sarcasm didn’t become her. She looked me in the eye and added, “Don’t martyr yourself for me.” Then she stuck her chin out and spoke to her sister. “Either take me home or to the closest car rental place. I think there’s one about a mile west of here.”

  I popped an antacid.

  “This isn’t the end of it,” said Judy, game once more as she pulled into traffic and headed back to the office. “It’s only the beginning. We may not be lunching, but the day hasn’t been wasted. You got your hair done and...you and Jack...well, let’s say you’ve communicated—in a new way. Sort of unpeeling the onion. I’m very satisfied with our progress so far.”

  Whatever the hell that meant. I ignored Judy’s onion remark, but to be called a martyr? The word stuck in my craw. “I’ll be home late tonight,” I said to Claire as I exited the car. “Don’t bother waiting up.”

  When I returned to my office, I shut the door, sat at the computer, and typed “support groups” into the search engine. In the time it took to sneeze, hundreds of listings appeared. Who knew so many people depended on strangers for help? Yet here I was doing the same.

  Trying to narrow the search, I added Houston and death of a child to my inquiry and studied the results. Interesting. I could choose to join an online group or an in-person group. I typed with only my two index fingers, so this was a no-brainer for me. Besides, as Claire had often said, I was a people-person.

  Scanning the in-person list, my eyes halted like a spent bullet on one of them: The Miss You Foundation; a support group for Grieving Parents.

  My throat closed, my eyes watered. Miss you every day, baby.

  Without further thought, I clicked the link fo
r the website, printed out the information I needed, and tucked the paper into my top desk drawer. I continued to sit there for a few minutes, catching my breath and enjoying the peace that settled inside me. I would have preferred Claire and Ian to attend at least one meeting with me, but I didn’t need their permission to go alone. To help myself. Maybe learn how to help my family...before we disappeared.

  The phone rang, and for the rest of the day, I wore my President-of-Barnes Construction hat. Saturdays were busier than weekdays sometimes, and I had plenty of work to catch up on. My watch said six when I looked at it again. Meeting Ian for dinner wasn’t an option, not on Saturday nights. Making new friends required he be available to socialize. My stomach growled, but I wasn’t ready to go home.

  Claire had crossed the line today. My patience was gone, and I had no desire to handle more of her histrionics. Did I say handle? A joke. I tried. I did try. I was the guy who lived with her and loved her, but I was also struggling to survive myself. Something had to change. For the first time, I wondered if healing Claire was truly my job. A long time ago, she’d said not. But she was failing at it.

  Tired, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Thinking about my wife required too much effort. My stomach rumbled again, and I suddenly realized I didn’t have to go home to get a decent meal. Willie’s Ice House was only a few blocks away. Picturing one of their thick, juicy burgers with a brewski on the side had me salivating.

  I made the rounds of the building, shut off a couple of lights—another conservation reminder would go out in the morning—then returned to my office near the front entrance. Grabbing my car keys, I scanned the room and got ready to leave. Just as I reached the door, the phone on my desk rang. We’re closed, pal. I’m tired and hungry. Get a life. If my name weren’t on the building, I would’ve let it ring. Instead, I leaned over and picked up the receiver.

  “Barnes speaking.”

  “Is this Jack Barnes?”