Mr. Forester, from across the street, came over and gave Daddy a pep talk.
I wasn’t there.
Probably a good thing.
When I brought Daddy’s dinner over, he told me that Mr. Forester had told him that he should open a bottle of his favorite alcohol. Daddy doesn’t have a favorite; other than a shared bottle of beer in the heat of summer, my father doesn’t drink. Mr. Forester said for Daddy to take a long swig and not stop drinking for at least a year. That’s how it was done in the old country, and that’s how it should be done here. I’m not sure where the old country is for Mr. Forester, certainly not the country my family comes from, but what can ya do?
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him your mother would not approve.”
I had to smile. I can hear her saying something like that. That drinking would help no one and harm many.
“But it got me thinking.”
“About what?” I put the plate down in front of my father, grabbed one for myself, and joined him. No man that has been married as long as my father was married should eat alone.
“I can move forward or rot.”
“That might be a little harsh.”
“I am not going to give up my life because that woman stole your mother from me.”
“I’m glad.”
“I have a lot to do before I join her.”
“I’m thinking at least fifty years.”
“That might be a little optimistic, Cara, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Grandpa lived to be over a hundred. Irish people live a long time.”
“Some of us, yes.”
I will not cry. Dammit, I will not cry.
“The children need a grandfather.”
“They do,” I agreed.
“Most of you have not even been blessed yet.”
“That’s true.”
“Valerie is getting bigger every day. Sinead will have her little one before long.”
“She has to go to school. She’s gonna need help, if only when the baby is sick and daycare won’t take him or her.”
“I don’t do babies.” He smiled. It was a phrase he and Mom used often. Infants intimidate my father, but once the baby is a few months old, he is completely involved. “I can help with little kids.”
“Plus you still have daughters to walk down the aisle, Daddy.”
“Are you telling me something, Cara?”
“Oh, I can’t even think about that right now.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s too soon.”
“Or maybe not soon enough.”
“What?”
“Girl, what would you do for another day with your mother? Another week?”
“Just about anything.”
“Then why are you giving away that time with A.J.? You love him, and he you. Why are you waiting? What do you need as a sign?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know he has asked you. He has asked me three times.”
The tears escaped, but for the first time in a long time, they dribbled over a smile. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because you’ve not said yes.”
“True. The day before the accident.”
“It was not an accident. It was a crash. Had she been sober, it would have been just as torturous, but I could have forgiven her. Accidents happen, there’s no way around them. But once a person is drunk and behind the wheel, they should know that sooner or later, a tragedy is about.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“You were saying? Before the crash...”
“A.J. asked me to marry him, and I said not yet. Just before the crash, I had decided to ask him to marry me. But then, losing Mom… I can’t get married without her there to help me. I can’t be married without her there to help me.”
“Don’t give away your life, girl. Your mother wouldn’t want that.”
“I’m trying.”
“As am I. We’ll do it together.”
I held on to my father while he cried. The first I’d ever seen him. What had that stupid woman done to my world?
TEN
I CAUGHT THE phone on the second ring. Since the crash, I almost always get it on the first. To say that my nerves are shot would be a huge understatement.
“Hey.” It was Teagan.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine.”
“You have to start every conversation with that now. You have to say, ‘Hi, everything is fine,’ and then tell me why you called.”
“Are you kidding, dingleberry?”
“No. Every time the phone rings, my heart starts racing so hard I about lose my lunch. I can’t even explain it. It’s immediate.”
“Okay, fine. Hello, Cara. Everything is fine. I called to ask you if you want to go to lunch with me and Sinead.”
“Why are you guys going to lunch?”
“I just wanted to check on her. She’s been having a hard time.”
“I’d love to. When and where?”
“Thirty minutes. Your place.”
“My place?”
“Every time two or more of us get together, we end up in tears. I’d rather we do that in private. I also have some news.”
“Tell me.”
“No, I’ll wait till I get there.”
“You suck.”
“Yes, I do.”
We shared a chuckle. That’s a start.
Sinead looks like a pregnant person. She’s so cute, it’s amazing.
Mom would love it.
“Look at you. You’re all round and everything.”
“I know. Last night, I looked normal. Today, I look like this.”
“You look adorable.”
“Thanks. Howard loves it. All the changes in my body. He can feel the baby kick at night.”
Teagan and I smiled. For real. It felt good.
“Have you seen Val? She popped out, too.”
“I saw her at Daddy’s yesterday. She was dropping off some groceries. I think he is starting to lose his sense of humor about the whole thing.”
“Yeah, he told me he doesn’t need for us to be looking after him.”
I told them about our earlier conversation. “He is starting to heal.”
“I can’t imagine how lonely it will be for him in that house. First, he has a bunch of kids there all the time. Then he and Mom finally get to enjoy it themselves — it’s only been a few months since Sinead moved out — and now he is in the house all alone. That has got to be hard.”
“Yes, but having us hover isn’t easy either.”
“Mom would tell us to let him decide. If he wants us there, he’ll let us know.”
I shrugged. “I know, but me hovering is more for me than it is for him.”
“Then you should probably tell him that.”
“I will.”
We had a nice lunch. Nothing fancy. They really didn’t give me a lot of warning. Shrimp salad for Teagan. She’s on a kick. Don’t ask.
Sinead had breakfast. Diced ham in scrambled eggs and pancakes.
I had sunflower seeds. I know it doesn’t sound like much of a lunch, but it has always been a comfort food for me. I’ve been eating enough of them lately that I’ve just been buying them already shelled. They make me feel better.
Sinead and Teagan had been gone only about thirty minutes when my dad called.
I’m never going to get used to that.
Dad hates using the phone.
He used to say that’s why he was married. So Mom would call.
I swallowed hard and answered. “Hi, Daddy. What’s up?”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Next time you’re in the neighborhood, could you stop by? There is something I need a little help with.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“It’s not an emergency. Just something I want to get done.”
&
nbsp; “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He chuckled.
It made me unreasonably happy.
He was drinking a cup of tea when I walked in. The normalcy of it broke my heart.
“What ‘cha need?”
“I’d like you to help me write a letter. That young man said it would help. I can do it whenever, but I would like to do it now.”
“Sure. What are we writing?”
“An impact letter.”
“A what?”
“The lawyer wants a letter from each of us describing the impact of your mother’s death on our lives.”
Okay, someone should have warned me.
“Teagan might be better at this than I am.”
“And I will get her thoughts as well. Will you type it up for me?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll get your mother’s computer.”
Oh, great. How am I gonna do this?
I love my dad. When he carried out the laptop, he brought a box of Kleenex with him. He gave me a shy little smile. “We’ll both be needing this.”
It took us just about three hours, two boxes of Kleenex, a couple of pots of tea, several Oreos, and two phone calls to get the first draft on paper.
The truth is, the first words came from my father quickly, and although he wanted to edit and make them better somehow, I thought they were perfect at the first telling. Fortunately, I’d saved every version so I could pull up his first words.
It is impossible for me to describe what the loss of my wife means to my life because I simply can’t imagine my life without her.
I met my wife when I was nothing more than a boy. She had the most beautiful blue eyes that sparkled when she saw me that first time and every time since. She was the maker of my tea. The carrier of my children. The creator of everything in my world that was of any importance.
Since the moment we met, I have wanted for nothing more than to lie by her side and whisper about the moments of my day I did not share with her. We did that each night because in her knowing those moments, there would be nothing that we didn’t share.
We had our troubles, as all couples do, but they never lasted more than minutes. We knew what was important. WE were important.
To ask me of my life without my wife is to ask me how I will live without breath. Without thought. Without light. She was all those things to me and more.
I cannot imagine my life without my wife, and but for the thoughtless actions of the woman who killed her, I would never have given such an empty life a thought.
We agreed to keep the first words and look over them again when it was time.
“Cara, will you write something? For your mother? Will you ask the others to do the same?”
“I will, Daddy.”
I drove down to the park at the end of the street and cried until A.J. called looking for me. I have no idea how long it was.
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No, I can drive.”
“I’m not sure you should drive while you’re feeling like this.”
“Then I’ll never drive again.”
His voice was so tender and full of love and concern. “Come home, Cara.”
That just started me crying again.
“I need to talk to you about something, and I don’t want you to whack out on me. One of us being insane is enough.”
The look on A.J.’s face showed me he was actually worried.
“It’s not bad.”
“Good.” He took a breath to settle himself.
We were sitting on the couch. Each of us with our backs on one of the armrests. Our toes meeting in the middle. My knees were too far up in front of me to get a good look at his face, and for the conversation we were about to have, that wouldn’t work.
I pulled me feet down and sat cross-legged. He followed suit.
“I made a decision just before my mom died, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
He didn’t know what to do with that. “Okay. What did you decide?”
“I was in the shower, and I decided that we should get married. I was going to propose to you. I even had it all planned out.”
His smile was bright but slightly hesitant. “Was?”
“I can’t get married right now. I can’t plan a wedding without my mother. I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid. I know she isn’t coming back. I’m never going to have her at my wedding now. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, we would have already been married, and she would have been there.” I couldn’t hold back the tears.
A.J. swiveled around and sat with his back to the back of the sofa. He pulled me onto his lap.
“I’m sorry she won’t be there. I understand. It doesn’t matter when.”
“But what if something happens to my dad? You’ve seen him. He’s so sad. What if he follows her?”
“He isn’t going to do that.”
“Today, we wrote that letter that Jessie’s sister told us about. The impact one. He was gray. He looked terrible. I thought he was going to die on me at the dining room table.”
“But he didn’t.”
“But he might.”
“Cara, your dad is a strong man. He’s already made his decision.”
“That’s what he told me. That he needed to stick around for the grandkids.”
“You know that he is sticking around for you guys, too. You get that, right?”
“I know. But Mom always said that it was she and Daddy first — then all of us kids. That they were together first and that they would always come first. What if he decides that he needs to be with her? He’s still in so much pain. He’s going to have to have at least one more surgery. He’s aged thirty years. He isn’t even talking about Ireland anymore.”
“Maybe you should take your dad to Ireland.”
“What?”
“Maybe you and your dad should go to Ireland.”
“He won’t want to go without my mom.”
“How do you know? Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it would be good for him. Maybe it’s exactly what he needs. You won’t know until you ask.”
“I really don’t think he is physically strong enough even if he wanted to go. I’d be afraid something would happen.”
“Then bring your sister. She’s a nurse.”
“That’s actually a good idea. I’m not sure about me going, but if he went with Troya.”
“Don’t hate me for saying this.”
“Say anything you want.”
“Your mom was all about learning lessons, Cara. I think maybe the biggest lesson in all of this is to not put things off. If you want to go to Ireland with your dad, do it. We’ll figure it out. If your dad can’t spend the money right now, we’ll take care of it. Whatever it takes.”
“You know I love you, right?”
“I do.”
“You keep practicing those words. As soon as my mom comes to visit, we’ll be saying them for real.”
The look on his face told me that I’d never shared that particular bit of information with A.J.
I snuggled in to explain.
“When I was in high school, I lost several people that were really important to me. I had a friend die in a car accident. It was a rainy night, a terrible downpour. It rained about three inches in an hour. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. She was driving the back road, between the harbor and here, and she drove right under a semitruck. Killed her instantly. I lost another friend at the river. I never swam in the river — I’ve always figured that an alligator would eat me one day — but everybody else went down there, and they were all using a rope swing. Something went really wrong. He got all hung up on the swing and the moss and landed funny. They said he broke his neck and was dead before he ever hit the water.” The tears had started to fall again. I’d been crying so much lately that I had boxes of Kleenex on every horizontal surface everywhere I went.
“I’m sorry.”
I blew my nose. “I was having a
really hard time. Mom showed up at school early one afternoon. She took me to this really cute little place for a cup of tea.” I rolled my eyes. “Me in my stupid uniform. The guy behind the counter was so cute. I was so humiliated standing there in my stupid white blouse and blue herringbone pleated skirt.”
“I’ll bet he still fantasizes about that day.”
His comment made me smile. I love A.J. for all the things like that that he does.
“When we were seated at a little table and started talking, I told Mom how hurt I was that I would never see my friends again. She told me that when she died, she would come have a cup of tea with me just so that I was sure she was all right. We talked about it after that. Lots of times. She always promised she would come have a cup of tea. I’m not sure how she’s going to pull it off, but she will. I know she will.”
“Then we’ll wait for her to come visit.”
“Do you really think she will?”
“Yes. You know your mother. She’s gonna have to check up on you and everybody else. She’s watching, Cara. And she’s proud of you. You guys have hung together, and you have done your best. That’s all she ever wanted from you and for you.”
I fell asleep with my head on A.J.’s lap, Kleenex sprouting from every leaking part of my face.
Teagan woke me up.
Again
“Dingleberry, are you busy?”
“Not really.”
“Can I come over?”
“Of course.”
“Good, I’m at your door.”
I rolled my eyes, which was a mistake because I’ve cried so much since my mom died that I have a constant headache and swollen eyes. Rolling your eyes under such circumstances is a painful experience. I could hear my mother comment. “What would it be that you expect, love? Time to move forward with a smile.”
Not ready.
Not by a long shot.
I opened the door, and Teagan and Jessie were standing in front of me.
Great.
Teagan was bad enough, but I didn’t need Jessie today.
“Come on in. I need to blow my nose.”
“Wash your face while you’re at it, dingleberry.”
I wanted to smack the crap out of her, but she had come bearing a pink bakery box that could hold cinnamon rolls. I didn’t think I’d eaten since I pushed food around the plate at Daddy’s house.
The Tea Series Page 75