by ANDREA SMITH
Just as I shut my locker, I see Kim standing there behind it staring at me. I jump, clutching my chest. She hasn’t talked to me in months and I have to wonder what the hell has changed.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I say.
“Sorry. Can we talk?”
“Why?” I ask, getting defensive. “We don’t talk at school, or at practice or at the games. Why now?”
“It’s important,” she replies.
“I can’t,” I reply honestly. “I have to run an errand during lunch period.”
“How about later?” she asks, pressing me.
“Yeah, sure. I’m home tonight. You can call me then.”
“I will,” she calls after me as I flee down the hall.
I find a phone booth two blocks away, pulling my car over and getting change out to make my call. My heart is beating fast. My mind tells me there could be all kinds of reasons for my period being late. Stress and well...that’s all I can think of.
“Planned Parenthood, this is Lois, how can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah. This is number seven calling in for my results?”
Come on, Lucky Number 7!
“One moment please.”
I’m put on hold, listening to the instrumental, elevator version of ‘Brandy.’ The lyrics play in my mind because it’s one of those songs that has been played to death on the radio.
Brandy what a fine girl,
What a good wife you would be,
But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea.
Music stops. “Amy?” the voice says.
Yeah, I gave a fake name.
“Yes, this is Amy,” I reply pensively.
“Your results are positive.”
“I see. Okay.”
“You can come in and talk to a counselor if you’d like. The sooner the better if you’re planning on terminating the pregnancy, honey.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
“I won’t. Bye.”
I slam the phone back into its silver cradle. There’s no way I can go back to school. Tears are overflowing and my stomach is in a huge knot. I jump back into my VW and take off, going nowhere near the school. I just need to drive around and think. I have to think.
My eyes are still misting up and I know I need to pull off somewhere to think and weigh my options.
Before I can even think about where I’m going, I’ve pulled into the long, winding drive of the cemetery just on the outskirts of town. It’s where Angie was laid to rest just a few weeks back.
It’s cold and windy; snowflakes are swirling around in the frigid February air. No accumulation is expected, though I wouldn’t care if it was. It could snow ten feet and bury me alive for all I care.
Stop it!
That’s not rational thinking; that’s Angie thinking and I’m not going there.
I find her grave; the dirt is still piled high and dead flower arrangements are still scattered over it and beyond.
I make my way up to her grave and, for some reason, I’m hoping that it helps me to put things into perspective for some reason; I can’t figure out why I think that, it just seems to give me a sense of peace and quiet that I so desperately need.
When I get home, Mom has long since left for work at the club. I grab a quick sandwich and turn the television on, not really watching it. I simply need the noise.
Once I finish up, the phone rings. It’s probably Kim and I don’t feel like talking. I turn the ringer off and head for the shower, taking my time and letting the warm water rinse over and soothe me. I shampoo my hair twice, killing time so I don’t have to face anything outside of this shower.
How ridiculous is that?
Finally, once my skin resembles a prune, I decide it’s time to get out. I put on a pair of flannel pj’s and crawl into bed. It’s only six-thirty, but I don’t care. I want this day to be over as quickly as possible.
I pull my diary out before I turn the lights out.
February 2, 1974
Dear Diary,
I’m knocked up. It’s official. I’d love to share the news with Erik, but he’s been kind of wrapped up in his own trip these days. I went to the cemetery today. Once I got the news from PP, I didn’t feel like going back to school. I went to Angie’s grave. I don’t know why, I just felt compelled to do so. I needed to think.
I stayed there for a couple of hours, going back to my car periodically to warm up. I noticed a single black rose had been placed at the head of her grave. It didn’t belong to any of the flowers left over from the funeral. It looked fresh.
After I left the cemetery, I drove around some more, waiting for Mom to be gone because I’m scared to death she’ll take one look at me and figure it all out.
I love Erik. I need him so much right now, but I’m scared shitless to do or say anything to him that might push him further away. Why is life so fucked up at times?
Oh, and Kim tried to talk to me at school today right before I left at lunch time. I told her to call me, but I haven’t felt like answering the phone tonight. Whatever she has to say to me can wait. Just like she’s kept me waiting all of these months.
Chapter 19
Kim’s waiting at my locker for me when I get to school. I’m not in the mood to deal with any cheerleader drama.
“You didn’t come back to school after your errand,” she comments as I spin the dial on my combination lock. I remain silent. “You missed cheerleading practice,” she continues.
I look at her.
“You didn’t answer your phone last night.”
“True, true and true,” I reply, opening my locker door and grabbing my first period book.
“Is something wrong?”
I shut my locker door and lean against it studying her. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect clothes, and perfect life I guess. “Why would you care if there was?”
“Cece,” she starts, “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted towards you all these months, it was so wrong.”
“Hmmph, second apology I’ve received this week. Imagine that.”
She frowns in confusion.
“Marshall stopped by the other day to apologize. I sort’ve flung it back in his face.”
“I don’t blame you,” she replies. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. We were supposed to be good friends, as I recall. You never even bothered to hear my side of the story, Kim. You don’t know the kind of person Marshall is—all you do is what Keith tells you to do.”
“You’re right. But not anymore, because I do know the type of person Marshall is. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
“What do you mean?”
She leans in closer, her eyes darting around to make sure no one is paying attention to our conversation. “I mean the day that Angie...died, he was acting totally off the wall.”
“Was he high or something?”
“Or something. He was totally wrecked on sopers. Kept rambling on about how fucked up his life was—chicks that screwed him over. He mentioned Angie...and then you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I hiss. Shit, I don’t need any more drama on my plate.
“Because I’m worried about you. It’s too late to worry about Angie, I guess.”
“What are you saying, Kim?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of her face.
She starts to say something and then quickly clams up. I feel someone behind me.
“Come on, Kim, let’s get to homeroom.”
It’s Keith.
He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, and the tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t approve of Kim talking to me. I’m disturbed by what she just shared with me, but I’m more disturbed by what she hasn’t.
She gives me a quick glance and then walks away with him.
So absorbed in my thoughts, I don’t notice as I turn to head to class that Erik is standing behind me.
“Oh shit,�
�� I say, “You scared me.”
“Pretty jumpy aren’t you. What’s your deal?”
“Nothing,” I reply, not looking at him. “Glad to see you made it to school.”
“Hey,” he calls after me. “We need to talk.”
“Later,” I call out, not bothering to look back at him.
This is too much. Too damn much. My circuits are on overload. I can’t breathe. The walls are closing in on me and I just want to stop time for a few minutes so that I can unscramble my mind.
I feel a hand on my shoulder now—from somewhere and it’s cold as hell in the hallway of my school. The wind is whipping through here like the walls don’t exist. Everything is going dark and I feel like I’m ready to pass out.
Every bit of energy has been sucked from me and I know I can’t make it to class. Hell, I can’t even see the classroom doors or the floor because everything is dark, cloudy and swirling like a mist around me.
I want to scream, but I can’t find my voice. The fingers on the hand are digging in more firmly on my shoulder now. I turn and…
“Parrish! Are you alright? Parrish?”
My eyes widen and I get my bearings. The realization seeps in quickly. I’m not there anymore. I’m not Cece any longer. She’s left me for whatever reason.
I look up into the worried brown eyes of my father.
I’m back.
“What? What happened? Where did she go?”
He frowns and takes me by the arm. “It’s too cold out here, Bambolina. Let’s get you to the car.”
“Dad,” I persist, trying to stay put but having no luck as he hustles me away from her grave. “I wasn’t finished. I don’t have the whole story. Why did you interrupt like that?”
He pulls me along, leaving no opportunity for me to try and reconnect with Cece’s spirit.
“I didn’t like what I saw. Please get into the car,” he says, opening the passenger side door for me. “It’s too cold for you to be lingering out here.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Ten minutes. But that’s long enough.”
Only ten freakin’ minutes?
“But I uh...made a connection with Cece’s spirit,” I say. “There’s more for me to know before I can help, Dad.”
“You’ll have to learn it another day. That whole thing made me totally uncomfortable.”
I look over at him as he puts the car in gear and I can see by the twitch in his cheek it’s not worth arguing about. Maybe I can do some research on my own and let him chill a bit.
I decide the next time I visit Cece, I’m going alone. “What exactly happened that bothered you?” I ask cautiously.
“It’s difficult to explain. You seemed to be in a trance of sorts, not aware of your surroundings or external factors. Anyone could’ve come up to you and done anything. I don’t like it.”
“I have to do this, Dad. I promised Ma.”
And I know as soon as I mention her, he’s going to relent.
Maybe.
“How about if you share with me what you were able to learn so far about this...”
“Cece,” I provide.
“Okay, Cece,” he confirms. “Maybe between the two of us we can find whatever resolution Cece needs in order to move on, cross over, whatever the appropriate terminology is for this situation.”
I nod. “There is some research I’d like to do. Maybe look up friends, living relatives—that sort of thing.”
I can tell he’s relieved. “How long are you staying?”
“Would you mind if I stayed on after Ryan goes back? I want to call my agent, Leonard, and tell him not to schedule any shoots for a while.”
“I’d love it,” he says, glancing over at me. “But what will Ryan think about that?”
“He’s due to leave for an assignment anyway on the fifth. Besides, he understands I need to make up for lost time with my father.”
And I think my dad is kinda choked up when I say that. He nods and his hand reaches for mine, squeezing it for a second. “I think that’s a wonderful plan, Parrish.”
Chapter 20
I kiss Ryan goodbye the morning of January fourth. I’ve cleared my schedule with Leonard indefinitely. The truth is, I’ve got plenty of money stashed and if I want to take a well-deserved leave of absence, then I will.
Ryan’s not at all upset about my staying on; in fact, he thinks it’s great that I’ll be spending time getting to know my father. He says he’ll call when he can, mentioning that some of the areas will be extremely remote.
He takes the rental car to the airport. Sheila has offered her car up to me for as long as I’m staying with them. She’s so kind to me, and actually seems pleased I’m staying on for awhile.
“It’s good you and your father get acquainted better. You’ve both got a lot of time to make up for, you know?”
“Thanks, Sheila. I guess I better let Mom know.”
Mom is less pleased about my staying on. “I don’t understand, Parrish, what about your career?”
“For now, my career is on hold, Mom. I really need to do this.”
Of course she has no clue about what I’m really doing, and I’ve no plans to clue her in anytime soon.
“Well at least call me once or twice a week. I still worry.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
My first order of business is to make notes on everything that I remember from my trip. I type it all into a Word document, it’s kind of helter-skelter, but I need to document it while it’s still fresh in my mind. Names, places, dates. Then, I need to get as much info as possible from the Internet on the various players in Cece’s life.
Ryan is always telling me that Google is my friend.
We shall see.
By the time Dad and Sheila are finished for the day at the lodge, I’ve managed to locate Cece’s obituary and, through People Search, I think I’ve located her father, for all the good that will do me. He lives in Florida and he was nowhere to be found on my little trip back to the seventies. But one never knows. No sign of her mother, Nancy.
I’ve also located Marshall Rydell.
Hmmph!
It seems ole Marshall has done well for himself. Probably lots of help from his influential parents. He’s a federal judge in the Tenth District Court in Denver.
I’ve been glued to the computer all day. When Dad taps on my door to let me know dinner is ready, it dawns on me that I never ate lunch.
He waits until later to approach me about what I’ve learned. I share it with him, along with everything that I’ve gathered so far today.
“I don’t understand,” he says, reading my notes. “What is the cause of Cece’s death?”
I look up at him, “I don’t know, Dad. You interrupted me a week or two before she passed.”
He studies me. “Isn’t this something you can ascertain without having to...relive it?”
“You’re asking me questions I can’t answer. I’m new at this, remember?”
He sighs and I know he’s concerned. I like that part of it, but I also know that Ma wouldn’t allow me to do anything with my gift that would put me in harm’s way.
“So, what’s next then?”
“I...uh, I need to find out how she died.”
“The cemetery should have a copy of her death certificate,” my father offers.
“Would they allow me to have a copy?”
“It’s public record, I’m sure. I can’t fathom them turning you down,” he replies with a smile.
“Then that’s what I’ll do. Oh...and Dad?”
He quirks a brow.
“Remember, this is just between us.”
“Who the hell would I tell that wouldn’t have me committed,” he comments wryly, giving me a slow smile.”
“I know, right?”
Ma pays a visit in my dreams. It’s so strange. I’m sleeping peacefully, having a perfectly good wet dream about Ryan—that’s right, women have them too though I don’t know why society s
eems to think it’s just guys.
At any rate, I’m on the verge of my ‘O’ when who pops in to chat totally killing the mood?
Ma.
Except it’s okay being that I love her and all.
She’s still rocking some really cool clothes and looks as beautiful as ever. “Parrish,” she greets me, “Hi sweet girl! How are you doing with Cece’s situation?” she asks. “Word’s out that you might need some help. That’s why Mommy’s here.”
It kills me when she refers to herself as Mommy to me. I feel myself smiling in my dream. Did you ever notice that you can’t see yourself in your dreams? I mean, even if there’s a mirror in your dream, try to catch your reflection some time. Impossible!
But, I digress.
“Hi Ma, looking good,” I answer her, in my dream.
(You can hear yourself in dreams. But you already knew that, right?)
“Well, here’s the thing—Dad kinda interrupted me while Cece was...at the wheel. I didn’t get to the conclusion of her...passing.”
I watch as she raises a perfectly arched brow in confusion. “Well, why did he do that?”
“He said he didn’t like what he saw. He was worried, I guess.”
“Hmmph,” she says, tapping a booted foot. “Well that’s Dominic, always the worrier. Did you tell him it’s perfectly safe for you?”
I nod. “I guess he’s just kind of...overprotective.”
She nods and her long, straight hair moves a bit with it. “You don’t have to tell me, I remember,” she replies, giving me a wistful smile. “Oh...that man,” she continues, letting out a sigh. “But, his stubbornness is actually one of the things I love so much about him. Along with some of his other fine...qualities.”
I swear to the saints above, I actually believe she blushed just then! I mean, is that even possible with ghosts? “He doesn’t want me going back to the cemetery,” I add. “But, I don’t see how I can’t. I’m going to get her death certificate, maybe that’s all I need.”
“No, sweetheart, you’re going to need more than that. Tell you what, will you take a message to your father?”
I nod.
“Okay, tell him you talked to me and that I want him to chillax on this and that he needs to let you go back and let Cece finish showing you what happened. Reassure him that you are in no danger whatsoever.”