by Jolene Perry
I grab my hair with my hands and wish I could push or pull or scream loud enough to make everything different. Make everything change. Instead I push it down. Push my tears back. I start to lock it all up. I can hold it in. Hold it back. I’ll just have to push harder, work harder.
Dad steps toward me.
“Get out of her room!” I scream. My voice is hoarse and not working right.
He backs up into the hallway.
I breathe in. The faint smell of her favorite perfume is here, but for how long? How long will it be before she fades away?
- - -
I’m in a suit. A fucking suit, because people want to tell me how sad they are and how much they’ll miss my mom. My mom. Not theirs. Mine.
Even Dad looks decent.
It’s all real.
This is Mom’s services in New York. And I know she wouldn’t think she was worthy of Arlington, but she deserves it. She won’t be buried while we’re here.
A limo picks us up. Dad tries to tell me about money and the apartment. I know how much money Mom has. She’s always been open with me. We’re in a smaller apartment than we need to be in. She drives a small Mercedes when she drives. I have a shitload of money, and I don’t care. At all.
The room is packed. Who the hell organized a funeral at the Plaza? Mom would have rolled her eyes. Dad and I are ushered to the front. People I would have bragged about being friends with a week ago shake my hand, give me hugs and wipe tears as I walk past, but I don’t care. Screw them all. Whatever sadness they feel is nothing like what’s chewing on my insides. I don’t feel their hands when we shake. I don’t meet their eyes. We don’t share the same pain. The same loss. No way.
Dad’s quiet next to me. He doesn’t put an arm around me. Doesn’t try to tell me everything will be okay. He knows as well as I do that none of this is okay. He’s close, though. And my dad is someone I never thought I’d gain comfort from, but he’s what I have right now.
My eyes well up with tears at that thought. Mom’s supposed to be all I have. Couldn’t Dad die in a boating accident or something and leave me my mom? If one parent had to go, why did it have to be her? I suck in a breath and push it down and in—into the steel cage I’m building to keep this locked up. I’m not going to be the freak show in the front row that can’t stop crying.
Someone stands at a podium. He starts to talk about Mom, Liz Preston. I want to scream at him. That’s her news name. Mom’s Olivia and goes by Liv. For TV she goes by Elizabeth, and then by default, Liz. But it’s not her, not who she is. So seriously, what the hell does he know? He didn’t know her. Not like I did. My stomach seizes up as I see the coffin behind him. Mom pre-picked it. No doubt. Simple, metal, functional. Shit. She’s in there. Mom’s in there.
I look away. This is hell. Really, and truly. This is hell. Mom’s right there, but she isn’t there. Not anymore. Where did she go and why can’t she come back? I sit back in my chair. Dad’s eyes are on me. I know him well enough to know he’s worried. Hell, I’m worried. I don’t know what to do with all the stuff that’s mixing around inside me, tearing me apart into so many tiny shredded pieces. There’s no way I’ll ever be the same.
Pictures now. A huge screen rolls down. They show some of Mom’s first broadcasts ever. It was for some New York City morning show.
Dad’s wiping tears. “I remember this,” he says. “We were just married. I was so proud.”
I don’t think of my parents as together. Not really. Is Dad sad about losing her? I mean, it’s not like he lost her. I lost her. Lost, lost. What a ridiculous thing to say. I didn’t lose her. She was killed. She was killed while doing something she was so passionate about. She knew there were risks and did it anyway.
What about me? Wasn’t I worth the risk to not do it? To stay home where it’s safe? What the hell?
I hear my name and my face goes back to the screen. Picture after picture of Mom and I. Behind the scenes at different places she reported from. Paris. London. Northern Africa. Egypt. Bosnia. Moscow. South Africa. Our brief trip to Antarctica. Chile.
I can’t do it. I can’t stay here and watch this. If I thought coming into this room was hard, how the hell am I going to leave without making nice to people who have no idea what it’s like to lose their mom. No one shares this with me.
There has to be some escape. Anything. I’d sell my soul right now for a little reprieve. Ten minutes. Two hours. Anything. I gotta get out of here. Mom’s here but not here. Everyone thinks they’re sad and broken up, but they don’t even know what it means.
I stand up.
Dad grabs my arm.
“I gotta go,” I say.
“Antony.” He shakes his head.
I jerk my arm away and head for the nearest door. I don’t care where it goes. I just need out of this room. I push my way out of the doors into a narrow, quiet hallway. Service hall. Now what? My heart says again, something big.
Dad’s right behind me. “Antony, I’ve let you be quiet, but you’re scaring the hell out of me. I’ll help you however I can, but you gotta talk.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” I start up the hallway.
“Antony!” he calls out after me.
“Don’t wait up.” Now I know what I need. I need to call Trace and David to see if we can set something up. I need some serious distraction.
Six
I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care. The city lights have lit up a black sky for hours. I’m hammered, completely shit-faced drunk, and I want it. Anything. The more the better. Maybe I’ll drink myself to death and drown in a pile of my own vomit… Okay, actually, I do still have limits. They’re just getting fuzzier with each drink. David’s a good guy and keeps them coming.
For my going-away party when I left for Seattle, I made my friends keep it small. I needed more than that to give me a reprieve from how I feel. The place is packed.
“Hey.” Finn nudges my shoulder. His dad is some kind of rock star or something. A drummer I think. Right now I forget, and I don’t care that I’ve forgotten.
“What’s up, man?” I put my arm around him. I’m down to my undershirt and suit pants. It’s what I have.
“I know you’re not really into this, but with your mom and all.”
It takes me a moment to focus on what he’s showing me. Neat lines of coke on a small glass tray. I grab his straw and suck a whole row up my nose. The rush hits me hard and fast. I’ve done this once before, swore I’d never do it again, but right now I don’t give a shit about anything. The room spins.
“Awesome, huh?” He pats my back.
I grin. That’s pretty much it. Every touch, every tingle shoots something like electricity through me. The only time I’ve ever felt this is with a girl. And one of those girls is walking toward me right now.
“Hey Gem.” I smile wide. I’m like flying over the furniture, the living room. I don’t even remember whose house we’re at, and it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Her blonde is perfectly smooth as always, and I can think of a million ways she’d be a good distraction right now—all of which would make Amber blush.
“Are you finally ready to stop playing hard to get?” Her deep brown eyes open wide, and when her finger touches my chest, tingles of electricity rocket through my body. I’m awesome.
“Yep.” I nod. The movement spins the room again.
“Good.”
She tucks her fingers into the front of my pants, the way she knows I like, and pulls me with her. Each time her fingers move against my stomach I get more turned on. I don’t even care what she has planned. Anything would be good. Everything would be good.
“I’m sorry about your mom.” Her chest pushes into mine as she backs me into the wall of an empty bedroom. “Can I do something to make you feel better?” She licks her lips.
Damn. I grab her hand and rub it between my legs. Gem and I have been together before. We know each other. This is perfect. And normally I’d really try to make her feel goo
d, or whatever, but tonight, I need escape.
“You want my mouth there, or my hands?” Her lips touch my ear as she talks.
“Do you have to ask?” I step back to the bed and lie back. The room whirls. Every touch from her lights each nerve in my body.
Gem’s hands rub up my chest and down my abs. She teases me a few times, by undoing my zipper and then moving her hands up again. I’m nearly insane with my need to be touched by the time she opens my pants. I close my eyes while the room flies in and out of focus. Now I just hope the combination of alcohol and Gem erases what I need it to.
- - -
I roll over in the middle of the night. Gem’s sprawled out next to me, still in her clothes from the party. That’s good because having sex while in this state is never a good idea.
Girls lying on their side are the sexiest things ever. She looks soft, her shoulder curving down to her waist, and the steep curve back up of her hip. I reach out to put my arm around her, and pull us together. But that’s not for me and Gem. That’s different, for someone I love. And I like Gem, but she knows what we are, and what we aren’t. And as good as it would feel, I know it would give her wrong impression. It starts to tap into my thoughts that what we did last night might also give her that same impression.
How do we know that the physical stuff doesn’t count, and that the emotional stuff does? It’s just something that’s sort of understood. At least that’s how it is with my guy friends, and until Amber, I haven’t really ever had a friend that’s a girl.
My damn phone beeps again. I’m still messed up. Drunk, high, something. I answer. “Hello?” But my voice doesn’t sound like me. It’s all warped or something like from a satellite phone.
“Crap, it’s you. Your dad’s so worried.”
“Amber?” I ask. I mean, who else would be calling at some insane hour to say something about my dad.
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
“I’m really, really, really, wasted.” I close my eyes. It’s better than the ceiling coming in and out of focus.
“You sound it.” She has this whispering laugh, and I close my eyes.
“Guess I sorta screwed up, and now everyone’s worried about me, huh?” Only it’s really Dad who’s worried, because Mom’s not here anymore. Her name sends waves through me, and I never really got the reprieve I wanted.
“Something like that.”
I breathe enough of the weight off my chest to talk. “Why did you call?”
“I’m the only other person your dad knows, who sort of knows you.”
Right. What on earth am I supposed to say to Amber? “Wha-cha reading?” I ask.
“That’s what you want to talk about?”
“Yeah.” I’m still on my back wishing that the room would hold still. Wishing Mom was here. Wishing I still felt whole.
“I’m…I’m reading a memoir from this guy who has Asperger’s and toured with KISS?”
Her voice is slowing me down, helping me focus, helping me relax. It’s the first thing that’s dulled the pain ripping me apart. “Can you read it?”
“Now? On the phone?”
“Yeah.” My body slumps down, relaxes into the bed. “But I might not stay awake for long.”
There’s a short pause, and she actually does it. She starts reading. Her smooth voice tells this man’s story, and it’s crazy interesting. His writing voice isn’t stellar, but it’s honest. It’s him. It feels better than anything that’s happened to me all night. I’m drifting back off, but I can’t tell her to stop, her voice is…
- - -
I don’t know if it’s morning or not, but my whole body aches, churns and swims. Gem. Shit. I’m pretty sure I remember Gem sleeping next to me, but now she’s nowhere to be seen.
I’m still dressed. That’s good. Do I want to know what happened? I’ve never passed out like that before. The thought of it kind of freaks me out—not knowing what happened. Phone’s in my hand and wallet’s still in my pocket. That’s also good.
I stumble into the living room. There are a few people passed out on the couches, wrapped in blankets from last night. I start to look for my suit jacket, but don’t really care. I never want to see the damn thing again anyway.
Dad’s probably pissed. Mom would be pissed, but she’s not around to be pissed anymore. She’s stuck in some damn metal coffin.
I keep trying to blink the scratchiness off my eyes, but it doesn’t work.
My feet stumble me into the elevator, and I hit the button for the lobby. When I step onto the sidewalk, I know where I was. I was at Gem’s house. Probably shoulda figured that out when I was still inside. Or, maybe I did, and just don’t remember.
Fortunately for me, her building’s next to mine. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out. Twenty missed calls. Eighteen from Dad and two from… Amber? Amber’s name pricks at my chest. We talked. Didn’t we? I asked her to read to me. The air leaves my lungs. How crazy does she think I am? Then Gem’s smile and large brown eyes hit my memory. I’m immediately defensive. What the hell does it matter what I did with Gem last night? Amber’s barely even a friend.
I’m nuts.
“Morning, Mr. Preston.” A man opens the door to my building.
Now I gotta get my ass upstairs to sleep off the rest of this hellish feeling. The elevator feels like a roller-coaster and every second feels like an hour. I just need to lie down.
My key fumbles in the lock until the door jerks away from me, revealing a scowling Dad.
“What the hell happened to you?” His voice is the most animated I’ve ever heard.
“I’m going to bed.” I rub my sandpaper eyes again.
“Look, Antony. I’ve tried to be really understanding about all of this, but you can’t be gone all night without letting me know where you are!” The door shuts behind me.
“Sorry, Dad.” I rub my hand over my face. “I’m fine.”
He stops, takes my shoulders, and looks slowly between my eyes. “What did you do?”
“Something I’ll never do again, okay?” I jerk away from his gaze and stumble into my room.
“Antony.” Dad follows and sits on the bed. “I know you don’t want to, but we’re leaving for DC tomorrow. Do you want to sort through some stuff here first?”
“No.” I fall face first in my bed. “I’m keeping the apartment. I can afford it. I’m coming back here for school.”
“Mom thought you’d go to Harvard, or to Paris.”
“I’m coming back to New York. Harvard and Paris was before she…” but I can’t finish it. “It’s different now.”
Dad relaxes next to me. I feel it. His hand rubs up and down my back. I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but I can’t. After a few minutes, I start to let myself relax and drift off. One of these days this nightmare will be over.
- - -
Something’s different. Dad and I are different. I now see the grief on his face, and even kind of recognize that some of it’s for me. I pack a big bag of some stuff to take back to Seattle. I even grab a picture of Mom, even though it feels so final—taking a picture. It’s one none of the networks have. One of Mom and I that she took with an outstretched arm last year in St. John’s. Our faces are tanned and smiling. Our dark brown hair is so the same in color that our heads blend in together. Same eyes. Same smile. Part of me. Or am I part of her? The last part left?
It’s just another one of the shitty feelings that I push down and in, hoping my body will absorb the painful chaos that’s eating at me.
- - -
Arlington is horrible, but amazing. The soldiers give me chills. Even though Mom was against most of the wars our country fought, she was good to the soldiers. Anytime there was an opportunity for her to donate some time, she would. Every time. She deserves to be here. Dad’s arm is around me, and I don’t stop it. I know we’re met by some important people, but I don’t care who they are or why they’re here. Mom’s good friends from the Today Show are here.
I hug t
hem all tightly. They were almost as much her family as I was. Am. I am.
This is real, and there’s no escape. Of everything in this mess that’s too horrible to be happening, it feels like I need to force myself to be present, to be actually here. My chest says otherwise, pulling it all in and down.
Most everyone is ushered away before they lower her into the ground. I sit. Still. Once again tears streaming down my face. Once again, tears streaming down Dad’s face. Buried. Mom. It’s all real.
We walk down the hill, past numerous graves of numerous people. I wonder if any of the family they left behind hurts as much as I do. Mom’s smiling face hits me again and again. The one that was her real smile, the one that almost never made it onto TV, and when it did, it made me remember how much she loved her job.
“When can we go back to the boat?” I ask.
“Never thought I’d hear you say that, but yeah.” He puts his arm over my shoulders. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
My body starts to shake, and I have to suck in a few odd breaths, but I manage to hold it together. If I can hold it off. The pain. My body will continue to absorb this. I’m sure of it.
Seven
I don’t mind being back in Washington because it’s everything New York’s not.
None of my old friends are here. Nothing here reminds me of Mom. Just the weight in my chest that I’ve decided might never go away. Well, and the fact that she sent me here and right now, being upset with her is a lot better than some of the other feelings I’ve been dealing with. I text Gem to tell her that she really helped me out when I needed it. She texts me back and says she misses me. It kind of makes me feel like shit because I like Gem, but mostly I like what she does for me. What kind of guy does that make me?
I haven’t been out since we got back, a week ago, maybe two. I’m sure this is lame and pathetic of me, but I don’t want to be part of anything that will make me wish Mom could be a part of. I can’t imagine it. Not yet.
Dad’s on the deck of the boat talking with Lynn. There’s no such thing as privacy on a boat. That, and, they’re right above my room on the bow.