On Thin Ice

by PJ Sharon

  “No, it’s not that.” I shook my head. The reality seemed too bizarre for words. “I just found out that my dad isn’t really my dad.” I explained the latest development in my ridiculously complicated life.

  “That’s messed up but I can see why they didn’t want you know.” She glanced across the wide cab, sensing my disapproval and that I didn’t need her taking their side. “It must kind of screw with your mind, thinking you come from one place only to find out you’re somebody totally different.”

  “You aren’t kidding.” I sighed, tired of being angry. “It’s weird though. I looked at myself for a long time in the mirror this morning and it was like the pieces finally fit. I used to study my reflection and try to find parts of my dad in me. Sometimes I’d think maybe I had his hands or his height, but it frustrated me that I couldn’t find him in my face. I’d make stupid excuses, like he had his nose broken a few times so that’s why it was so much bigger than mine.” My gaze dropped to my hands, noticing the tiny white scars on my knuckles. “Dumb, huh?”

  Sami got quiet for a while. When she spoke, her voice was soft and low. “When my dad died, I was afraid I would forget him. I tried to hold onto every memory of him I could. I was so young, the image of him faded pretty fast. If I didn’t have a picture of him, I wouldn’t remember his face at all. But I still remember him singing to me at night. He used to sing to me in French. You know—that Frere Jacques song? I still hum that tune when I can’t fall asleep.”

  “At least you knew where you came from. And your dad loved you. It must be nice having those memories of him.” I chewed my cuticle, shredding a small piece of skin off, savoring the slight sting and that first taste of warm, salty blood.

  “My point was that you are lucky enough to have two fathers if you want to look at the up side of this.” She sounded annoyed with me.

  I hadn’t considered that there was any up-side to my situation. I’d always thought Sammi and I had our absentee fathers in common, even though mine was still breathing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a spoiled brat.”

  “Do you remember the accident?” she asked after a minute, her voice sounding distant.

  “I only remember bits and pieces. How ‘bout you?”

  “I remember we were playing out on the front lawn after the kindergarten bus dropped us off. My mom was babysitting for you because your mom had to work. It had rained earlier that day. I heard his motorcycle come screeching around the corner at the top of the hill and then BAMM! Like a crack of thunder...he hit the pole.” She let out a long sigh, and I suddenly realized why she always got sad during thunder storms. “I remember the sirens, the ambulance, and the police asking my mom if he’d been drinking. After that he was just gone.”

  “Do you think it’s worse losing a father who loves you, or having one around that doesn’t?” I asked, staring out the window again. She didn’t answer. We pulled off the highway and followed the hospital signs. Sami parked in the lot, turned off the truck, and faced me, her blue eyes cool.

  “I would give anything to have one more day with my dad. Even if it was just to tell him how much I loved him, or how much I missed him, or even how pissed I am that he died and left us all alone to pick up the pieces. My mother hasn’t smiled a genuine smile since he’s been gone. What I think is that you have an opportunity here to get to know the guy that has been showing up to watch you skate for the last five years.” She shook her head at me, disgusted. “Really, Pen, that’s gotta’ count for something.”

  ∞∞∞

  The familiar hospital smell of death, disease and disinfectant filled my nostrils as Sami and I found our way to the clinic on the first floor. Mom was up in the cancer ward on the fifth floor. I shuddered to think what she would say if she knew why I was here. Based on what I now knew of her experience, she didn’t believe in abortion any more than she did divorce, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here. I wondered how many Hail Mary’s she’d said for the adultery. Not that I was in any position to judge, with my own sexual misconduct and its consequences flashing in neon lights before my eyes. We pushed through the double doors and I checked in at the window.

  “Have a seat and fill this out.” A hefty woman in a bright floral top and curly red hair handed me a clip board, not bothering to look up from her paperwork.

  I sat next to Sami and blindly filled out the form, my mind wandering the whole time. If Mom had terminated her pregnancy, she could have finished school, left my dad and lived happily ever after with Bill, never looking back except to see her three grown daughters happy and successful before she died. Instead, she had sacrificed the love of her life, a career, and the opportunity to spend her last days worry free. I knew she loved me, but would she have been happier if I’d never been born? I finished the form and walked it back to the desk.

  “Someone will be with you shortly.” The woman appeared to have only one tone of voice—disdainful. She was clearly in the wrong job.

  I sat back down and fidgeted, trying not to think about what I was about to do. Mr. Barstow’s voice popped into my head. “You need to think very carefully before you make a decision that you can’t undo, Penny.” Marie’s words followed, “Sometimes the answers to our prayers come when we least expect them.” I bounced my knee for another minute and then shot out of my chair.

  “I need to go see my mom. I have to talk to her.” I headed for the doors, calling behind me. “Tell the nurse I had to leave.”

  Chapter 28

  The elevator up to the fifth floor took forever. When the door opened, I ran down the hall and burst into Mom’s room. Dad sat by her side, holding her hand, his eyes cast downward in prayer. His head came up when I entered and I saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “Dad?” My heart leaped to my throat. “Is she...?”

  “About ten minutes ago.” He looked back down at her face. My eyes followed. She looked so peaceful. The lines that had etched her face in pain the last few months were gone. With the purple and pink scarf I’d gotten her for Mother’s Day still wrapped around her head, her skin looked almost like porcelain, white and perfect.

  I edged my way to the bed, barely able to lift my feet. I reached out a hand and touched her cheek, cool against my warm skin. In spite of all the tears I had cried of late, my eyes refused to shed them now. My mind disconnected from my body and I stood there watching her chest to see if it would rise one more time. It didn’t.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you went to school today.” My dad sat there not looking at me, as if I didn’t belong here, and I suddenly felt like an intruder.

  “I needed to ask Mom a question.” I stared down at the floor, unable to take in the heartbreaking scene.

  “Oh? What was it?” He hadn’t taken his eyes off the lifeless body of my mother, his wife. His voice sounded dull and mechanical.

  “I needed to know if she regretted having me.”

  My gaze met his as his head swung in my direction, his bloodshot eyes widening. He focused a long, hard look at me. “What kind of question is that? After all she did for you, how could you even think...?” The words choked to a halt as his attention fell back to her, waiting for her to speak, to answer the question herself. Then he threw himself over my mother’s body and sobbed. “She’s dead! Oh God, help me...”

  I looked on, stunned, empty, and helpless. He and God had claimed her and I had no place at her side. I backed out of the room and fled. I had no idea where I was going, or what I would do when I got there.

  My head was spinning and my breath came in ragged spasms by the time I reached my destination. I stumbled into the chapel. My dry eyes burned for release. I couldn’t think past the words, “She’s dead. Oh God, help me...” I dropped to my knees at the altar, lifting my face to the plain wooden cross on the wall in front of me. The soft light of candles glowed in the small room, and the suffocating scent of frankincense permeated the air. I took in a shuddering breath, and repeated the only words that made any sense.<
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  “God, help me.” I knelt, my hands clasped tightly together. I pressed my lips to my knuckles, trembling, but unable to cry. Alone in the silence I waited for God to answer me. I don’t know how much time passed. It seemed like my internal clock had stopped. Time had run out. I stayed still, listening. I didn’t know what I expected to hear, but what I felt sent a wave of awe through me. A flutter rippled in my belly, like a stone dropped into a silent pond.

  Marie’s words came back to me. “Everything in life is about balance. Life and death, darkness and light, sin and redemption. You can’t have one without the other. Not now, but some day you’ll see that there are gifts in every situation.”

  I shook my head. How could there be a gift in my mother’s death? At least she isn’t suffering anymore, I thought, the tightness in my chest easing. My hands went to my belly, a tiny bulge there that I’d noticed the last few days.

  “Sometimes, the gifts are hard to find. But we have to be looking for them or we’ll never see them. And then hopelessness takes over.” Hopelessness had taken over my life. I could see it so clearly now.

  I looked again to the cross. “God works in mysterious ways. The answers to our prayers can come when we least expect them.”

  “Are you trying to tell me what to do?” I asked aloud, feeling for the flutter in my belly again. The movement had been so fleeting, but undeniably real. I heard my sister’s voice in my head one more time.

  “God loves you, Penelope Anne Trudeau. He wouldn’t give you choices without giving you the tools to make the right decisions.”

  My mother was gone. Protecting her had been the main reason I’d had for having an abortion. That reason no longer existed. There was still my dad to deal with, and Carter, school, and my future...but...none of that mattered at that moment. I knew what to do. I knew what my mother’s answer to my question would have been. She’d said that everything she’d done had been for me. She said it, not so I’d feel guilty, but so that I’d know how much she loved me.

  Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and splashed onto my hands. Mom’s life was over. But she could live on through me—through the baby. I let the tears wash over me, hoping that they would somehow heal the brokenness of my heart and make a way for a future of unknown and infinite possibilities.

  Tuesday, September 14

  Grampa Fred once said, “Fear and faith are two sides of the same coin. Fear means believing what you cannot see will come to pass. And the definition of faith is the exact same thing. It’s all in how you look at it.”

  Chapter 29

  Mom had made all of the arrangements ahead of time, including writing her own obituary and picking out her coffin, a metallic green monstrosity that looked like it could double for an Egyptian sarcophagus. Sarah picked out the green flowered dress and a pale rose colored scarf that matched the cream interior nicely. The mortician had done a decent job with makeup, evidenced by everyone’s comments about “how good she looked.” In life, she wouldn’t have been caught dead with all that makeup on. Irony wins every time.

  The funeral parlor was packed, the line of people out the door. Mom would have been pleased by the turn out.

  Dad, Marie, Sarah and I sat in a row of chairs or stood for as long as we could to greet the mourners and well-wishers as they poured into the funeral home. Rachael hadn’t been able to make it. The kids were both sick and Ray was still deployed. A second trip from Germany in a month was too much. She said she felt terrible that she couldn’t come, but sent a huge spray of flowers with a pink ribbon reading “Beloved Mother” with a card from “Your loving daughter.” I wondered if Rachael would ever forgive herself when she looked back on her relationship with our mother or if she really couldn’t see the hypocrisy of her actions. I knew I shouldn’t judge, but her absence felt like a final insult.

  Old friends, co-workers from the nursing home, people from hospice and the cancer center, neighbors and relatives strolled by the casket, kneeling to pay their last respects. One by one the long procession shook our hands, hugged us in turn, and sat for a while in the red cushioned chairs, sharing stories about the wonderful woman my mother had been. I floated somewhere above my body, taking in the scene, detached and numb in my own little bubble of un-nameable emotion.

  Sami and Katie came with their parents and stayed with me for a while, making me cry with them when I didn’t think I had any tears left. Jordan and Ali and my other friends from school came in groups. Skaters with their bleacher moms, and my work friends from the rink showed up to lend support.

  The Russell’s were there and when Bobby Russell hugged me, I clung to him for a long time, wishing for the simplicity of our childhood to transport us to another time. All the “what ifs” of an alternate universe played out in a few short moments. What if I’d gone to that dance? What if Mom hadn’t gotten cancer? What would my life be now? What would our lives be now? He looked young and sad when he pulled away, as if maybe he was wondering, too. But we were both too late to know what might have been different, and neither of us wanted to ask the questions out loud—a thousand questions with no answers because there was no going back. All that was left was a solemn nod and a flicker of a smile between us. He patted my shoulder and walked away.

  So many people showed up that they had to have a second showing later in the evening. By then I could barely stand. My emotions had drained out hours ago, pure adrenalin had taken over, and my tank was running on empty. I needed air. The cloying scent of carnations and roses had me staggering for the rear door.

  As I snuck past cousin Sal with a new girlfriend at his side, I bumped head long into Bill. He caught me in his arms. “Penny.”

  I blinked the spots from in front of my tired eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. “I need to get out of here.”

  He looked over my head toward the open casket, his face flashing a sad stab of pain, and then glanced down at me. “You don’t look well. Let’s get you some air.”

  We walked across the back parking lot to a grassy area with a picnic table and sat down across from one another, the evening sky still lit with a setting sun. I inhaled deeply until my head cleared. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

  “No matter what you think of me, I loved your mother very much. And she loved me. We deserve a chance to say goodbye.” His voice cracked and he looked away, swallowing hard.

  The pain in his eyes reminded me how much my heart still ached when I thought of Carter. How we hadn’t said good-bye. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be here. Mom would have wanted you to be here.”

  Bill’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had a nice face—kind and handsome. He looked scholarly, smart. The profession of ollege English teacher suited him. I could imagine him reciting poetry to Mom and her soaking in the romance of it.

  “I appreciate you saying that,” he said.

  “How do you think my dad is going to take you being here?” I asked, fidgeting with the snug waistline of my skirt.

  “Frankly, I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of protecting his feelings at the expense of my own...and yours.” He had a stern and determined expression that sent a spike through my heart. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for my dad, (Richard that is). He’d lost the love of his life, first to this man, and then to cancer.

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen how he treats you. I don’t like it. I stayed out of your life because your mother asked me to, but also because I believed Richard was a good father to you. Now I’m not so sure I did the right thing.”

  “He’s not a bad person,” I said slowly, baffled by my urge to defend a man who I’d so often hated. “He does the best he can. He’s just... messed up like the rest of us.” It was the best defense I could think of. Though it seemed like a lame excuse, it was also the truth.

  “That’s very wise of you, Penny—and forgiving. But you deserved better. I know it’s kind of late in the game for me to try to be a father to yo
u, but I’d like for us to at least be friends.” He slid a business card across the table. “This is my number. If you ever need anything, I’m here, okay?” He smiled that familiar smile that I saw each day in my mirror and my heart bumped against my ribs.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” My lips started to curve up, but I squelched the sensation, not quite willing to believe I had someone real in my corner. “Try not to upset the old man too much. He’s been through a lot,” I said.

  “I understand. I’ll pay my respects and leave. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  A flashy blue Nova turned into the parking lot and my heart flipped upside down. Speaking of trouble, Carter cruised slowly up and down the full rows of cars and then spotted me.

  “Are you alright?” Bill asked. “You’re as white as a ghost.” He followed my gaze and we watched Carter pull into a space and step out of his car, heading straight for us. “Who’s that?”

  “An old friend,” I managed, unable to breathe or take my eyes off the train wreck that barreled down on me.

  “Hi, Penny.”

  Two words and my heart turned to mush. “What are you doing here?” I asked, for lack of a better greeting.

  “I heard about your mom. I wanted to come by and see how you were...to say how sorry I am...about everything.” His eyes sparkled like the Caribbean Sea in the dimming rays of sunlight through the trees. The color was intensified by the soft blue-green dress shirt he wore with his best jeans. Our eyes met for a long moment and then he turned to Bill, who had been quietly observing us.

  My cheeks flushed with heat. “Bill, this is Carter McCray. Carter, this is Bill Tyler...a friend of my mother’s.”

  Bill lifted a brow toward me, stood, and put out a hand to Carter. “Nice to meet you.” He turned back to me. “Remember what I said, Penny. Anything you need—anything at all—call me, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”