The Secret to Hummingbird Cake

by Celeste Fletcher McHale

  He sat on a bale of hay and pulled me down into his lap. “I wish Laine would’ve tried the treatment too,” he said. “But, Carri, it doesn’t matter how I feel or how you feel. She’s the one in the bed. You can’t want something for somebody. You forget she doesn’t have the will or the fight in her that you have. She can’t pick up that pitchfork and take on the world. Not five years ago or ten years ago. You can’t expect her to now.”

  I didn’t answer him, but I knew he was right. Laine wasn’t physically strong, in any sense of the word. She was delicate and gentle and fragile. She always had been. We were as different as daylight and dark.

  “Besides,” he said, “you aren’t really mad at her about the chemo. You’re mad at her for dying.”

  I looked at him. His words punched me in the gut and nearly sucked the air out of me. It sounded like such an . . . insult. “That’s not her fault.”

  “Exactly.”

  I let that sink in a moment. How could you be mad at someone for dying? Laine couldn’t help it. She hadn’t chosen it. She’d done nothing to give herself cancer. The truth was the harsh and high dose of chemotherapy needed to treat her type of cancer would have made her a lot sicker, a lot faster. Laine wasn’t physically strong. She never had been. It would have been awful for her. I didn’t really blame her for not taking it. It was purely for selfish purposes I had insisted she should. I was horrified of losing her. Jack was right. I was mad at Laine because she was leaving me. Not for a little vacation or a week on the beach. She wasn’t coming back. She was such a huge and important part of my life, and her absence would leave a hole impossible to fill. How would Ella Rae and I live without our other piece? The puzzle would be forever broken, and it was Ella Rae and I who’d have to stare at the pieces forever.

  We were going to Ireland one day. We were going to Hawaii one day. We were supposed to build houses together and have babies together and have lives together. She was supposed to be here for those things, and now we had to do them all without her.

  I was scared to death. But that wasn’t her fault. She’d never leave us by choice. Never. She’d actually given us a gift by not drinking their poison. Until this week had come, most of our days had been really happy ones, filled with laughter and joy. Not marred by vomit festivals or a mouth full of ulcers or a myriad of other side effects. She had known what she was doing all along. Little by little, I felt the anger begin to fade, and I began to feel a tiny bud of gratitude for the insight she’d shown. I clung to that bud and to Jack.

  Jack tugged on my thick braid of hair. “You’re so tired, baby,” he said. “You haven’t slept in days. You pick at your food. I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.”

  I relaxed against him. Just his presence calmed me, but his words tonight had begun to cure me. The heaviness I had carried inside me for so long felt different now, lighter. I’d become so accustomed to it, I barely noticed it any more. The anger had become as much a part of me as my arms and legs. Maybe it would never go away entirely, but tonight I even felt physically lighter. I felt my spirit filling up again like water pouring into a reservoir. I held him close to me. “You are such a good man and I love you.”

  “You are a remarkable woman and I love you too,” he said.

  I caught his hand and headed toward the door. I could help her do this now. I could help her finish it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ella Rae was waiting when I got back to Laine’s room. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “How is she?”

  Ella Rae shook her head. “Not sleeping well.”

  I got into my recliner and reached for Laine’s hand.

  “Move over,” Jack said.

  “Jack,” I said, “you are going to be so uncomfortable. You don’t have to—”

  “I been uncomfortable before.”

  I moved over in the chair and Jack eased his six-foot-plus frame down behind me. I was grateful he was here. I looked at Laine and my heart softened. I could see her through different eyes now. I wasn’t mad at her any more. Of course she would never leave us if she had a choice. She went along with every stupid idea I had ever come up with. She fought for my marriage when I hadn’t. She pushed and pulled and pleaded for Ella Rae and me to be better people. She had my back so many times, I’d never remember them all, and now she was leaving me. She loved me and I was losing her, and it was that I had been mad about all along.

  I still had no idea how it would feel when she was gone, but I felt surrounded by a very unfamiliar and welcome peace. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me. What a sweet relief it was to put an end to the constant turmoil that had boiled inside me the past year. I pulled Jack’s arm closer around me and held Laine’s hand a little tighter.

  “Close your eyes and try to rest,” Jack whispered.

  I squeezed his hand but didn’t answer. I brushed a strand of hair away from Laine’s face and smiled. She had been so happy the past few days while Mitch had been here. She was clearly and absolutely in love with him. I still couldn’t believe we hadn’t picked up on it. Guys asked her out all the time. Sometimes she would go. But after a couple of dates, she never went out with them again. Ella Rae and I said her standards were too high. She said we had none. But never once did I think her lack of dating had anything to do with a love affair that never really ended. A love affair so fierce and consuming that anything else paled in comparison. A perfect love, indeed.

  Those last five days had a different effect on Mitch. I had walked him to his car when he left this morning and held him while he cried—deep, gut-wrenching sobs that echoed the anguish in his heart. He would apologize to me for a while, and then thank me for a while.

  My heart had ached for him all day. What a terrible situation this was for him. Trapped in a loveless marriage, trying to do the right thing, and when he finally became free, he found the love of his life dying. He was just as hurt as Ella Rae and I were, perhaps even more so. His pain was laced with regret and guilt. He begged me to persuade Laine to let him stay. I told him I would try, but I knew it was futile. Laine had made up her mind, and as we’d all learned in the last few months, when she decided on a course, she didn’t change it.

  Jack was right. I was tired, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Still, sleep wouldn’t come. I laid my head on the cool leather of the recliner and watched Laine sleep. I thought about grammar school and how Ella Rae was forever beating the crap out of somebody who picked on Laine because she was clumsy and wore glasses. I thought about junior high and high school, our first real dates, which we’d all gone on together. I thought about summer camps, football games, bike rides, shopping trips, and proms. I almost laughed out loud remembering the weekend Jack and I got married and Laine had spent the entire three days in a panic because she was worried about the fallout. I thought about the nights, not so long ago, we’d ride around all night long listening to music.

  Laine would preach the whole night about how pointless it was to ride around while we could sit in a house and listen to a new CD. It was safer, she argued. It was boring, we said. She’d roll her eyes and complain, tell us we were killing her, she never got any rest, and she wanted to go home. She reminded us she was the only one with a real job and she needed real sleep. But bamboo under her fingernails couldn’t have made her exit that vehicle with us still in it. The girl wouldn’t step on a spider but would fight a grizzly bear for me and Ella Rae . . .

  I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because I woke with a start, as if something had jerked me awake. I glanced at the clock. It was two twelve a.m. Ella Rae was asleep, still holding Laine’s hand. Jack was asleep beside me. In fact, the only sound at all was the hum of Laine’s oxygen . . . and the grandfather clock. I looked at Laine. She
was awake and smiling at me, very slightly, but she was smiling. She stared into my eyes so intently I realized she must’ve willed me awake.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “Do you need anything?”

  She didn’t nod or answer, she just kept looking at me with that faint, faraway smile. I laid my head back down and stayed locked in her gaze. When I think back on that moment, I am sure I saw a multitude of emotions in her eyes, peace, gratitude, love, even joy. Then she took a deep breath, exhaled, and didn’t breathe again. I stared at her chest, waiting for the rise and fall that never came. And just like that, she was gone. I looked at her in awe of what I’d just witnessed. She had slipped out of this world and into the next without crash carts, without bells and whistles, and without white coats. Just like she’d wanted. Just like she’d planned all along.

  Even as hot tears poured silently down my face, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I held her hand against my cheek for a minute or maybe an hour, I don’t know. I never wanted to move from that chair. As long as Laine was in this bed, we could still see her, talk to her, touch her, even if she were dying. But I knew when I woke the others her life would truly be over.

  I wanted it to be our secret. I whispered, “I love you” over and over again during that treasured time I shared with her. Finally I realized that her spirit was gone. The angels had taken her home. I felt it as sure as I could feel the sun on my face or the wind in my hair. Laine wasn’t here any more. She’d slipped away from us as quiet as a whisper. Reluctantly, I laid her hand gently across her chest and sat up.

  My voice was shaky when I finally spoke. “Ella Rae, you need to wake up.”

  She bolted upright in her chair, Laine’s hand still tucked in her own. She knew as soon as she looked at me. She still hadn’t looked at Laine, but she knew it just the same. She began to cry. “I wasn’t ready,” she said. “I wasn’t ready yet.”

  Jack stood up and pulled me close to him. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of my head.

  I nodded against his chest, my tears still falling. I wasn’t frantic, as I had imagined I would be when this moment came. I could still feel the peace that had wrapped itself around me earlier, even more so now that she was gone.

  She hadn’t struggled or fought or resisted. She just . . . didn’t breathe again. Relief washed over me. I welcomed the feeling. I had been amazed by her life and was now amazed by her death.

  I glanced at Ella Rae. “Please get Tommy, Jack,” I said.

  Ella Rae was struggling. I moved out of Jack’s arms and held her close to me. She was inconsolable. “I knew she was going to die, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want her to die.”

  Ella Rae laid her head on Laine’s chest and sobbed. I placed my hand on her back, helpless to do much else, and let her cry. Sweet Rae. Ready to defend either of us at the drop of a hat, a tiny little thing that would take on anybody who threatened Laine or me. But if she loved you, she was gentle as a lamb.

  Tommy came in quickly and took Ella Rae into his arms. “It’s okay, baby,” he soothed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  “I wasn’t ready,” she said again and again. “I didn’t want her to die.”

  Tommy, in his Southern boy logic that I had always loved and admired, told her, “It don’t matter what you wanted, baby, this world didn’t want her any more. Shhh . . . baby, it’s gonna be okay.”

  Debra came in and removed the oxygen from Laine’s nose and gently took the IV from her hand. She folded Laine’s hands in her lap and started to pull the sheet over her.

  “Wait,” I said. “Please, can you just not do that yet?”

  Debra stepped away from the bed. “Of course,” she said and turned to leave the room. When she got to the doorway, she stopped and looked at us. “I have had the privilege of working with many families,” she said, “but I have never seen so much love and support from people who weren’t blood relatives. It’s been an honor, and I am so sorry for your loss. She was a treasure.” She closed the door gently behind her.

  Jack leaned over the bed and kissed Laine on her forehead. “Good-bye, sweet girl.” He blinked back tears and patted her hand.

  Watching that broke my heart. I knew how much he loved her and respected her. She had adored him. And she had believed in us. Always.

  Ella Rae had calmed down somewhat and I put my arms around her. I knew a multitude of people loved Laine. But nobody else felt exactly the same way I did except Ella Rae. We held each other for a long time and cried without saying a word. Then we stood by Laine’s bedside for the last time.

  Finally I pulled her away. “Come on, Rae, we have a celebration to plan.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The funeral director ushered us into the viewing room and then left us to view Laine’s body alone.

  “What?”

  “Oh . . . my . . .” Ella Rae said.

  “She looks like a hooker!” I said, as shocked as I’d been in my life.

  “Oh . . . my . . .” Ella Rae shouted this time before I put my hand over her mouth.

  “Shut up, Rae, he’s gonna hear you!” I scolded her.

  “He NEEDS to hear me,” she said. “Who’s the makeup artist around here? The bouncer at Sugar & Spice? That is ho red lipstick.”

  “Keep your voice down and give me something,” I said.

  “Like what?” Ella Rae asked. “A washtub and some bleach?”

  “Help me, Ella Rae,” I said. “Just reach in your suit purse and get me something! Mrs. Jeannette and Michael will be here any minute!”

  She pulled out a toothbrush.

  “Really?” I asked.

  She dug some more and came up with makeup remover wipes.

  “Thank God!” I said and began scrubbing Laine’s lips. “Help me.”

  She wiped at the bright-blue eye shadow. “What is this stuff, all-weather stain?” Ella Rae asked.

  “This is awful,” I said.

  “I need paint thinner!” Ella Rae said. “I’m gonna have to put my foot against her chest. I need traction.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I said and methodically rubbed back and forth across Laine’s painted lips.

  “This is spray paint,” Ella Rae said. “It has to be. It won’t budge. I can’t rub any harder, Carri. I’ll make her bleed.”

  I stopped scrubbing and looked at her. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m ’bout to break her skin,” she said. “I can’t rub any harder.”

  “Um, Ella Rae, you can’t make her bleed. She’s . . . dead.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean she won’t bleed, does it?” she asked.

  “Her heart isn’t pumping,” I said.

  “So?” Ella Rae said.

  “You know you are responsible for the blonde joke movement, don’t you?” I began scrubbing again, this time making progress.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “There,” I said, effectively removing the red paint. I reached into my purse and pulled out my coral lipstick and carefully applied it to Laine’s lips. Carefully, until Ella Rae’s elbow bumped my hand and I dropped it. It left a thin coral line down the front of Laine’s pale-pink dress.

  “Ella Rae!” I said.

  “Ella Rae?” she said. “You’re the one who dropped it!”

  “Give me something,” I said.

  She pulled out a laundry stick.

  I paused and looked at her. “Where do you get all this crap?” I asked.

  “Well . . . I got that at Wal-Mart, if you must know. What’s so wrong with having a laundry stick in your
purse?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s just if I asked you for two bricks and a water hose, you’d pull it out of your purse. It’s strange, that’s all.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “At least I don’t put maxi pads on my tatas.”

  “They are NOT . . .,” I started but realized this nonsense would rage on for hours if I allowed it to. “Never mind, just help me. Please!”

  Finally we got the stain out of her dress, a subtle light-brown shadow on her lids, and her lips covered in coral. She looked like Laine again. But now . . . we really looked at her.

  She looked peaceful, I could agree with that. But this mahogany box with its ornate handles and satin pillow held the truth inside it. Our friend wasn’t asleep, and she wasn’t going to sit up and tell us to stop bickering. She was gone. Forever gone. She wasn’t coming back. It was over.

  I clasped Ella Rae’s hand in mine. She had begun to cry, of course, but my tears had dried up. Just when I needed them most. I stared at the dressed-up shell before me, all that was left of a once beautiful girl with green eyes and rich, chocolate-brown hair. So this was where it ended. In a wooden box, in a dreary room haunted with thousands of tears from others who had stood where I was standing now. At that moment, I felt as dead as she was.

  Laine had been adamant about closing her casket. She only wanted four people to see her in this coffin: Ella Rae, Mrs. Jeannette, Michael, and me. She’d barely agreed to that because she knew we’d need to see her, to tell her good-bye. She wanted people to remember her like she’d been, not “all dressed up and sleeping in a box.” When the lid closed on this casket, it wouldn’t be opened again.

  I had been calm since she’d passed. Serene, almost. I was still in awe about watching her leave this world, how gentle it had been, how comforting it had been. But now, looking at her, it became too real. A slight panic or at least a heightened awareness had started to sink in. My emotional paralysis was waning. Laine died. She died. There would be a wake, then a funeral, and we would bury her. Then we’d all go home, but Laine would stay at the cemetery.