A Song of Life: A Fictional Memoir (Song for You Book 2)

by Megan Rivers

  “We'll be just over there,” he said, nodding at Galvin. He put his arm around Meadow's shoulders and walked to a nearby tree. Meadow looked at me, over her shoulder. Her eyes carried the same emotion as her father.

  Mr. Calhoun held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Christie. The last time I saw you, your hair was in pigtails and your knees were all scraped up.”

  He smiled but I only shook my head. “I'm sorry, I don't remember.”

  Galvin introduced himself with a handshake while my eyes traveled to my father. He wore a long black coat and kept pushing up the sleeve to check his watch. “I met you a long time ago.” Mr. Calhoun reported and my attention returned to him. “I'm sorry for your loss. It is tragic to lose a parent at your age.”

  His graying hair rustled in the breeze. “Thank you. She was a wonderful mother.” I felt Galvin's hand rub my shoulder.

  “Yes, well, luckily you still have your father.” He paused expecting a response, but I only exchanged looks with Galvin as I realized the point of this meeting.

  Mr. Calhoun cleared his throat when no one spoke. “According to your mother's Last Will and Testament, she appoints your father as your sole guardian.” The words plopped down on me like cinder blocks, while I was hoping to see parachutes.

  I looked to my father to see if his reaction was the same. The last words he said to me played in my head: “As of this moment, I no longer have a daughter named Christine...” He was looking down at his cell phone. The green light of the screen reflected on his dark sleeves. Looking up he retorted, “Our flight leaves tomorrow evening. If you'll excuse me, I have to take this.”

  Mr. Calhoun looked back at me, a hint of surprise dusted his eyebrows. “Right. Well, your father seems to have everything in order―“

  “I can't move to Australia!” I blurted. The memories and pain that accompanied them hit me in waves. “My life is here! I can't leave it all again!” My eyes pleaded with him.

  “I'm sorry, Christie. Dr. Langston made many sound arguments to keep you here but your father was very adamant.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “Again, my condolences,” he said shaking my limp hand as I stood dumbfounded. He waved farewell to Kevin and carefully trudged through the snow to his vehicle.

  My heart began to pound as steel bars began to set a foundation around me. “I can't do this. I can't. I can't.” I repeated as I watched my father talk on his phone. I couldn't live my own life there, with him. He would never see me as anything other than a failure; someone below him; someone who would never measure up to his expectations.

  “I know, Christie,” Galvin's voice sounded slightly overwhelmed. “We'll figure something out, just breathe.”

  I can't explain what came over me next that resulted in the next several minutes of zeal. “Breathe?” I asked incredulously.

  Screw this! I thought. I'm going to plow my own path. I was not going to Australia.

  After marching up to my father I threw the phone out of his hand and it plopped in the snow, feet from Kevin and Meadow. “You know as well as I do that neither of us wants me in Australia!”

  He turned and looked down his nose at me. “I cannot go against your mother's wishes.”

  Then, with hatred hearing him talk about my mother in that tone, I pushed him. “My mother would wish me to stay here! Where I'm happy!”

  Galvin grabbed me from behind before my flailing fists became weapons. “Do you truly hate me so much that you would really tear me from my family and friends after my mother died?!”

  Kevin and Meadow rushed over and were now standing to the side, ready to jump in if needed. Although, I wasn't sure if it was to prevent me from doing something, or to help my case. “You don't want me in your life and I don't want you in mine! Just keep me here!” I composed myself, stood up straight and firmly stated, “I don't care what you have to do, but I am NOT leaving America!” My eyes bore into his. I was going to get my way. Just this once my father and I were going to compromise.

  My father looked from Kevin and Meadow to me. Galvin still had his hand clamped on my arms, which seemed to feed the energy and fervor coursing through me. “Is that what you want? To stay in this country?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “Yes!” My tone was firm, decisive, unmoving.

  He sized up each of us and then replied, “All right. I'm sure I can work something out.”

  I felt those metaphorical cinder blocks shoot up and away like meteors in reverse. “Good,” I spat, still seething at how nerveless and composed he was being. “You do that. I'll be at the Langston's.” And I turned my back.

  It was the last time I ever saw my father.

  ♪ ♪ ♪

  I fell asleep that afternoon in Galvin's room/Kevin's office, feeling once again at home. I slept through the strain, the frustrations, the pain and anger.

  It was evening when I awoke. The only light in the room came from beneath the door. I heard loud voices downstairs, but didn't want to leave the pillows that smelled like Galvin. When the front door slammed, it made the water bottle on the desk shake. Sitting up to regain my senses, I decided to go downstairs and investigate.

  The only light in the hallway crept up the walls from the living room. My bare feet took one stair at a time. “That man!” Kevin's voice was high and full of anger, which made me pause.

  I crouched down and saw Kevin pacing the living room. Meadow hugged a throw pillow on the couch while Galvin stood with his back to me, watching Kevin. “He won't trust us with his daughter but he'll let us take her to a complete stranger's house and leave her there?” His arms rose and dropped with every other word.

  He stopped pacing and faced Galvin, asking, “What kind of father does that, then leaves the country without telling his daughter?”

  “Daddy, please,” Meadow's voice pleaded as she stood and grabbed her father's arm.

  He pulled her into a hug. “I'm sorry, honey, but I don't want to be the one to do this to Christie.”

  “None of us do,” Galvin assured him. I sat on my perch, trying to decipher the conversation. “But I'll tell her.”

  Kevin reached out and put his hand on Galvin's shoulder. “I know this hasn't been the vacation you expected, but thank you for being here for her.”

  “I would do anything for her,” Galvin admitted.

  Meadow reached out and pulled him into her hug. She said something to him I couldn't hear. When they broke apart Kevin stated, “I think it's best that we tell her together.”

  Curiosity seized me and I had to know what was going on. I climbed down the stairs. “Tell me what?” I looked from face to face. “What do I need to know?”

  Galvin dashed to the stairwell, but everyone just gave me the same solemn look. He reached out to grab my hand and I pulled away. “No.” I put my hand up. “Stop looking at me like that. Tell me. What is it?”

  Galvin looked back at Kevin and Meadow over his shoulder. “Your father just left for the airport,” he reported. He held out his hand for me to follow him, but I still didn't take it. My feet were firmly planted on the landing.

  My eyebrows pulled together as I took in everyone's expressions. “Uh huh...” That couldn't be what was wrong, it's what we wanted.

  “He left you a letter. Maybe you should read it first,” Kevin said picking up a letter from the coffee table.

  “No. Please,” there was a hint of desperation in my voice. “If he can't tell me, would one of you please?” Tears threatened to pour when everyone avoided my gaze. “Please?”

  It was Galvin who opened his mouth. He spoke slow and tried not to inflect certain words. “Your father believed it is best for you to stay with family here.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to keep composed. “And since Kevin had not officially become your step father, he does not see them as family.” Galvin's lips pierced together in anger and he couldn't look me in the eye anymore.

  “Oh god,” I gasped. “They're not moving to America, are they?” I never fathomed t
hat possibility.

  “No,” Kevin interjected, walking up beside Galvin. I looked down at both of them from the landing. Suddenly the four steps between us seemed a lot further.

  “But I don't have any other family. Uncle Jimmy died three years ago.” My mom's younger brother was always a fun house guest when he passed through town, but he died in a motorcycle accident during his quest to visit all fifty states.

  Kevin licked his lips, procrastinating his next sentence. “Your father has a half-sister in Maine and he thinks―“

  “He thinks she's more family than you?! A woman I didn't know existed until this moment is a better option than staying here?!” Livid. That's what I was. Completely livid at my father.

  “We tried, Christie,” Meadow chimed in. Her voice was softer than Kevin and Galvin's, she didn't hide the hurt in it. My father's wrath touched her too. “He wouldn't listen.”

  “And...” Kevin began, then bit his tongue.

  “AND? There's more?” I felt my legs shake and grabbed the banister.

  Kevin looked at Galvin for help. “Your dad, he...” Whatever it was, he didn't want to say it.

  “He what? What did he do?” The reality of the situation and the implications to my future hit me like a torrent.

  The silence that ensued smothered.

  “He paid her,” Meadow blurted, her eyes filled with apologies. We all turned to her and she bit her lip. “He gave her $10,000 to take you in.”

  My knees unbuckled and I fell to the itchy carpet. “I'm sorry Christie. We wanted to make sure you were going to be taken care of there and he said he gave her that compensation.” Kevin began to ramble as Galvin sat beside me on the stairs.

  “So I have stay with a women I don't know―who was paid off―hundreds of miles away from here, just to stay in this country?” That about summed it up, right?

  Kevin nodded, putting his hand on my shoulder. And just like that, the family I always wished to be a part of―the father and sister I always wanted―were taken away from me... along with my mother.

  I felt the pain and deception sink into my chest. I wanted my father's plane to crash, I wanted him to have a change of heart. I wanted a loophole. I thought about running away. I thought about disappearing. I thought it was the end of the world.

  NO.

  I had to be decisive at that moment. I had to choose whether to stand up and be that strong woman I know was inside me somewhere, or tumble into ruins and fuel myself with detest and hopelessness. I owed it to my mother to climb to my feet and work through it... no matter how fragile I felt inside.

  “We tried everything, but I won't give up.” Kevin looked like he had failed.

  “We're going to come visit all the time and try to have you out here, if we can, as often as we can,” Meadow shared, her chin resting on her hands as she peered down the banister at me.

  “And I will be there as often as I can―New York isn't too far away,” Galvin shared, resting his free hand on my arm.

  I saw hope trying to poke through in their eyes. “Okay,” I nodded, swallowing back the emotions I wanted to pour out of me like a faucet.

  Pulling myself up on my feet and shaking off Galvin's arm as he tried to help, I repeated myself, “Okay.” My eyes searched the hallway as my brain tried to formulate another plan: I was going to get through this. “Okay.”

  “We'll be with you every step, Stie,” Meadow encouraged.

  “We're going to fly out with you―we all are,” Kevin said. “Meadow and I are going to stay for a few days. We have to leave on the sixth.”

  Two days. That's all I had to pack up my belongings and memories.

  Two days to gather and collect all the courage I could.

  Two days to stash up a mountain of strength.

  Two days to say all my good byes.

  Two days to believe in myself.

  Two short days.

  XII.

  Fires that Mold the Future

  “Anchor” – Mindy Gledhill

  The entire ride from Boston's airport to Camden, Maine was mostly spent in silence. Kevin would sneak glances at me in the rear view mirror and Galvin kept his hand tightly molded to mine. I didn’t know what to expect when I met my aunt Odilia, but I hoped she would understand the pain this transition caused me and not let it effect our first impressions of each other.

  Finally, we passed below a sign that crossed over the road reading “Welcome to Camden.” After passing blocks of large multi-story houses we started seeing smaller houses. Meadow held the directions Kevin got off the internet and was giving him step-by-step instructions as we crossed a small bridge and turned down a street with a parking lot on the corner that held only large mountains of plowed snow.

  Kevin pulled up in front of a small, flat, white stucco house with peeling, weather-bleached red trim. The snow sat hard and packed in front of the house, not punctured by anyone’s snow boots or shovel. When closer, I noticed the stucco was crumbling and the branches of the tree on the side of the house scraped against the roof in the wind. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought no one lived inside.

  When my gloved finger pressed the doorbell, whose bulb flashed dully―grasping onto life, we heard the chimes reverberate through the house. We stood in the biting wind without words, waiting for an answer. We had just about given up when the wooden door pulled ajar. Through the screen door her raspy voice asked, “You Richard's kid?”

  “Yes. I'm Christie.” She stood unmoving, still hiding behind the shadows of the large wooden door. “This is Kevin and Meadow,” I realized introductions to the strangers behind me would be polite. “And this is Galvin.”

  She grunted. “Richard said he wasn't bringing you. Come on in, but quickly. I don't want to heat the entire state of Maine.” Large plastic bracelets framed her red fingernails as she unlocked the screen door for us.

  My aunt Odilia was much older than I expected, at least in certain lighting. She dragged her feet down the hallway so slowly that it took a great deal of patience to follow behind her. Her tiny frame seemed to support a cloud of faded copper hair that didn't budge when she bent down, turned her head, or (I assumed) got caught in a wind storm.

  She frequently wore stirrup pants with a large colorful sweater. Her ensemble was often spattered with costume jewelry and held up with shoulder pads. Bright pink lipstick coated her lips and blue eye shadow crumpled into dusty shadows that I wasn't sure was from aged eyeliner or cheap mascara.

  It was very dark inside the house. Yellowing blinds and shades held back the daylight from the windows and heavy brown drapes hung to the side ready to defend the dark interior that smelled like tobacco and mildew. My aunt shuffled herself around two mounds of papers―old newspapers, magazines, letters, bills―and let herself fall into a threadbare recliner with a grunt. Her black flat shoes dangled above the floor.

  A large, old television sat several feet in front of her and though its technicolor light flash-danced along the dismal walls, the sound was muted. She picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter while she said, “There's a room at the end of the hallway you can stay in,” she paused to light the cigarette in her mouth. “I'm sorry I didn't get to clean it out, but I don't move like I used to.” She tapped her hip. “Nearly snapped it in half a few years ago. Haven't been the same since.”

  “I'm sorry,” was the only thing I could think to say.

  “I'll go get your suitcases., Kevin said, giving me a reassuring smile.

  “I'll help,” Galvin added giving my arm a squeeze before turning to go. I watched them leave through a silhouette of sunshine before the door closed and the shadows crept back down the walls.

  Meadow linked her arm in the crook of my elbow as the television blared to life. “C'mon,” she said. “Let's go check it out.”

  When we reached the door at the end of the hall it creaked in years of dust and rust. Meadow and I stood there for several moments taking it all in: massive antlers to a mounted stag hovered above t
he bed, at least three metal rods, covered in plastic and mounted on wheels lingered around the bed holding fur coats and decades of dresses. Lumpy plastic garbage bags sat on musty brown cardboard boxes and on the two long wooden dressers sat several plastic baskets filled with half used perfume bottles, beauty cream jars, and empty containers.

  “Step one: sunshine,” Meadow announced climbing over piles of forgotten memories. She tugged and grunted until the heavy material gave way. The room was so deeply stained in the shadows they soaked in for years that they seemed to not want to lighten when the sunlight touched them.

  Hands on her hips, she surveyed the scene while I still stood in the doorway, gripping the door knob. “We can work on this.” She looked up at me with forced optimism holding up a smile.

  Kevin and Galvin bumped their way through the narrow hallway with the three suitcases and the one gym bag that I packed my life into. They stood speechless for several seconds before Meadow climbed onto the bed and stated, “The room has potential.” The antlers were dangerously close to the messy bun that held her unruly curly hair.

  “Let's go out for a while,” Kevin finally said. “Who's hungry?”

  Meadow, trying to get everyone in better spirits said, “Oh! Me!” raising her hand, still standing over the once-maroon bedspread.

  The only thing I wanted then was a place to call home―a place to call my own―or, at least a place to put my suitcases, but Galvin was leaving tomorrow and I had two days with Kevin and Meadow. I took a moment to remodel my brave face. “Me too!” I tried to match her tone.

  ♪ ♪ ♪

  Turns out, my aunt didn't care where I was or how long I was gone, as long as I was there on the first of the month when my father called. During that first meeting she told me, “Look toots,” she paused the television and peered up at me. “You are free to do what you want as long as I get that grand every month from your father.” My face must have darkened with what she said because after a drag on her cigarette she added, “I don't like my half-brother. You seem to be a thorn in his side which makes me like you. But I don't like company and we're stuck with each other.”