Still Air

by Freya Barker

  “Let’s call it a joint session, shall we?” She winks at Jonas before looking at me. “I’m glad your boy showed up tonight. He helped me go through Derrick’s things and helped me figure out what he might’ve wanted for his send off.”

  My eyes go to Jonas, who looks a little sheepish under the praise. “That’s right,” I acknowledge, my focus coming back to Pam. “He’s coming home tomorrow.” She blinks a few times at my statement.

  “Portland was never Derrick’s home, Dino,” she says softly.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Beautiful; it’s been his home for as long as you’ve been here.”

  I see her eyes mist over right before she does a face plant in my chest. My hand comes up to cup the back of her head, and I look over at Jonas, who is observing us closely. “So what have you come up with?” I ask him, drawing attention away from Pam.

  “We figured he’d probably want something quiet. No service or anything,” he says, his eyes drifting back to Pam’s bent head. “I figured he might’ve put something in the letter he left her, but she hasn’t opened it yet.” I watch as Jonas walks over to the table, picking up an envelope. Pam lifts her head away from my chest, throwing an accusing look in his direction.

  “Traitor,” she hisses, but Jonas just shrugs.

  “Might as well do it when you’ve got two sets of strong shoulders here,” my smartass boy points out. Pam’s mouth falls open at his audacity, but she promptly barks out a laugh.

  “Cheeky bastard,” she mumbles, reaching over to snatch the envelope from his hand. I’m struck silent as I take in the byplay between these two.

  Pam sits down heavily on the couch and, as if planned, my son and I sink down, flanking her on either side. Immediately the lighter atmosphere is gone and replaced by a heavier silence as Pam twirls the unopened letter in her hands.

  Once again it’s my boy who breaks through the tension when he snatches the envelope from her hands and unceremoniously rips it open, handing it right back to Pam.

  “You looked like you needed a hand,” he deadpans, and I can’t hold back the chuckle. He’s on a roll. Pam glares at each of us in turn, but I can see her sense of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth.

  “Fine,” she mumbles, taking in a deep breath before she pulls out the single, folded sheet and starts reading. My hand finds its way to rest on her leg, but I keep my eyes straight ahead. She’ll share if she wants to.

  The crinkle of paper accompanied by a sob has me look at her before looking at Jonas on the other side of her. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, and for a second, I question the wisdom of this heavy emotion in front of him. Then I remember what got him here in the first place, and I hope witnessing this pain will set him straight.

  “You read it,” Pam chokes out as she hands the letter back to Jonas. “I can’t.”

  A quick, slightly panicked look from him flies my way before he unfolds the paper and starts reading.

  “I love you, Mom. Forever. The guilt—it has left me hollow. I just don’t have the energy to fight the darkness anymore. I want to set me free. Set you free. So, so stupid. May God forgive me.” I can barely see my son through the sheen of tears blurring my eyes, but I can hear the hitching of his voice as I pull Pam in my arms. He sniffs loudly before continuing, “I want to be cremated. I’ve thought about it and I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life visiting an empty shell, like you have up to now. No celebration of life, because there is nothing worth celebrating. Just toss my ashes in the wind somewhere. Just you and me, that’s what I want.” Jonas surprises me when he jumps up and crumples the note into a ball, tossing it at the wall. “This is bullshit!”

  Pam jerks upright and both of us look at my son in shock.

  “He doesn’t want you to visit him? He doesn’t want you to celebrate his life? That’s what he wants? That’s fucking bullshit!”

  “Jonas!” I yell, jumping up and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Me? What is wrong with me? He had a mother who loved him enough to stand by him, even when he did the worst thing possible. She never left him!” He pulls free from my hands and points a finger at Pam, who’s stepped up beside me. “But he left her. He never, not once, says anything about what she might want. Not once, Dad!” Before I have a chance to say or do anything, Pam moves between us and pulls Jonas in her arms.

  “It’s okay, baby,” she coos at my son, whose angry tirade has ended in tears streaming down his face. This was not only about Derrick or Pam, this was just as much, if not more, about Jonas and his sense of abandonment. “Let it out, honey. Let it all out.” Pam’s voice seems to grow stronger with each word of comfort she utters, and I am once again in awe of the size and strength of her heart. I sit down heavily as Jonas starts to calm down.

  “Tell me, what you would want me to do?” Pam asks Jonas, pulling back from him a little. He uses his sleeve to wipe his face before risking a glance my way. I nod my encouragement.

  “It wouldn’t matter what I would want,” he says, sounding much wiser than his seventeen years. “I’d be gone. You’re the one who is still here. Whatever feels right for you is what I would want.”

  If I could be any prouder of my son, my heart would burst from my chest. Pam manages a smile as she leans in and kisses his cheek.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Pam

  Today is hard. Much harder than I thought.

  Dino insisted on coming with me to the funeral home, and frankly, after the emotional events of last night, I wasn’t going to argue. It had left me raw. He’d wanted to stay. When I pointed out he had a worried daughter waiting at home, and a son who needed some time to process, he tried to talk me into coming with him. I was tempted, but I’ve spent enough years hiding from my emotions, and going with him would’ve forced me to do just that. For the sake of the kids.

  No—I needed a chance just to feel. To sit among Derrick’s things, touch what he touched, and let it wash over me. Jonas’ outburst, last night, brought up a host of thoughts and feelings that I’d suppressed long enough. Maybe it was time to let them go.

  So after the boys left, Dino making me promise to call him in the morning, I made a pot of tea and sat by myself, just letting the emotions flow. I tried not to judge myself too harshly when feelings of anger and resentment bubbled up—and even some level of relief. Fear. Now that was a surprise. Fear of being alone, being no longer emotionally and genetically connected. Fear of losing my purpose, my identity. And the painful realization that the buck ends with me. I am now officially the end of the line, and I’m already two-thirds there. What do I have to show for it?

  I didn’t sleep much, mostly dozed on the couch, and dutifully called Dino this morning as agreed. Derrick’s body was expected to arrive at the funeral home around four this afternoon, and I had an appointment at three-thirty to discuss arrangements, and he said he’d pick me up.

  I’d planned to check in at Florence House, but the interruptions just kept coming. First Viv called, telling me she was on her way with Francessca with coffee and pastries. That was actually my highlight of the day, cuddling Francessca. Then Brenda called to see how things were. The bank manager was next to let me know the line of credit against the house I’d applied for a few days ago, so I could afford to lay my son to rest, was approved.

  But it was the time in between, when I agonized about what I promised Jonas last night; to focus on what I want—on what feels right for me. I never realized how difficult it was not to think of others first. I’m not even sure I know what I want

  Before I realized it, Dino was here and I was still in sweats. A two-minute shower and throwing on some real clothes, and I was ready to go. By the time we got to the funeral home, Derrick had already arrived. I could barely focus on the funeral director, knowing he was somewhere in the building. That’s when Dino jumped in and suggested taking a ten-minute break before dragging me out to the
car.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fresh air,” he says cryptically.

  It soon becomes obvious when he pulls into the little roundabout at the light house. There’s a strong wind blowing and when he opens the door for me, I’m tempted to hide out in the car.

  “Come on,” he urges. “I’ve got a blanket in the trunk.”

  Ducking my head against the cold, I follow him down to a bench at the top of the point. Waves are crashing against the rocks below and the wind blows sharp off the sound. Dino settles us on the bench, the blanket wrapped cocoon-like around us.

  “Clear your head,” he says, tucking me close to his side. “What do you feel right now?”

  “Cold,” I fire off instantly, earning a growl from the big man beside me.

  “What else?”

  “Irritated,” I deadpan, which is met with an annoying chuckle.

  “Very good,” he patronizes. “What else?”

  I move away from him and spear him with a glare. “What is this? Twenty questions?” He takes in my frown with amusement.

  “Nope. I’m just trying to get you out of your head,” he says with a shrug.

  “What does that even mean?”

  He puts his hands—his freezing cold hands—on my face and leans closer. “You can’t figure out what you want because you let your mind do all the decision making. Want comes from the heart.” His mouth comes down on mine, and right there on a bench at the top of the rocks, with cold wind chilling me to the bone, he proceeds to make my toes curl with his lips and tongue. “What else?” he insists, his mouth still against mine.

  “Heat, arousal, and...irritation,” I fire off, adding the last for good measure.

  Dino’s chest rumbles with subdued laughter as he pulls me against him. My eyes immediately drift off to the water, where the sun is starting to set, leaving bright colors in its wake.

  “This is such a beautiful spot,” slips from my mouth.

  “Mmmm.”

  “I don’t come out here often enough,” I muse, starting to feel a bit warmer with the blanket, and Dino, surrounding me.

  “Mmmm.”

  “You know?” I start, a thought forming. “This wouldn’t be a bad place to visit from time to time.”

  “I agree,” Dino says, stroking his big hand up and down my arm.

  “Do you think it’s illegal to spread Derrick’s ashes here? In the wind—over the water?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answers, “but who would need to know?”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re back in the funeral director’s office, making arrangements for Derrick to be cremated without a service, as per his wishes, and we schedule to pick his ashes up Monday afternoon. We don’t mention to the funeral director that we will take his remains straight to the lighthouse, where we will let him scatter to the wind—as per my wishes.

  “Why Monday?” Dino wants to know when we get back into the car.

  “Because The Skipper is closed on Monday,” I answer. “And I think I want you all there.”

  “Come here,” Dino rumbles, tagging me behind the neck, as he seems to enjoy doing, and pulling me toward his mouth. “Proud of you,” he mumbles, and before I can even attempt to remember the last time anyone’s ever said that to me—if ever—his kiss demands all my attention.

  Dino

  Fuck, it’s been frustrating.

  I crave Pam like crazy, and every time I indulge in a taste it only gets worse, but she needs this time without having me demand attention. My body won’t get in line though, and the moment I’m around her; I’m like a fucking dog with its tail wagging at the buffet in front of him.

  Pam decided to give her girls some time off this weekend, so she’s kept busy at the shelter, and I’ve done the same at The Skipper. I haven’t seen her, our only contact: the bedtime calls to check in, and those just cranked up the need.

  It’s funny; I never considered how much of a challenge it could be to care for someone who is as strong as Pam is. I’m not used to that. I’ve always had the role of caregiver, so my first instinct is to be the same way with her. Yet, she is so independent, she doesn’t really need anyone to take care of her, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering if she perhaps wants it. They say opposites should attract, but she and I are very similar. Fuck if I’m not falling for her anyway.

  Despite it being Monday, I met Viv and Syd at the pub this morning, right after dropping the kids off at school. Jonas was less than excited about going back, but this being his final year, he can’t afford to miss much more. Besides, he’s feeling a lot better by his own admission. We talked a bit about what happened Thursday night. Well, mainly it’s been me talking. He just listens and nods a lot. I’m thinking he’s probably embarrassed by his outburst. It was helpful for me; gave me a better understanding where his head is at. Communication is still a challenge, though. Like me, Jonas is really not much of a talker, although it seems both of us do more than our share with Pam.

  The women are already there when I enter the kitchen, both sitting at the table with mugs of coffee, and a happy Francessca bouncing in her chair in the middle.

  “Leave any coffee for me?’ I walk straight over to the pot, pleased to find plenty left.

  At Pam’s request, I’d dropped her back off at home after the meeting on Friday and headed into work. I told Viv what Pam wanted for her boy’s send-off, and she went running with it. Not that that was a surprise, Viv is as much a giver as Pam herself is. But it had been Gunnar’s idea to head back to The Skipper after for a celebration of life party. When I mentioned that her son hadn’t wanted anything like that, Gunnar countered with similar words to the ones my son voiced the night before; that this wasn’t for Derrick, but rather for Pam. I couldn’t argue with that.

  “What’s on the menu?” I ask as I take a seat beside Syd, suspiciously eyeing the piece of paper on the table in front of her. She starts listing all the items she’s written down. “Christ, Syd—that’s enough to feed an orphanage,” I point out.

  “Not really,” she replies. “We’ve got twenty-four or so mouths to feed. And there’ll be drinking—you know there will—which means there’ll be munchies.”

  “How’d this get to twenty-four?” I want to know.

  It’s Viv who answers. “She means a lot to a lot of people, Dino,” she suggests. “We can’t leave out the girls at the shelter, they’re her family too, but they’ll come straight here after.”

  It’s clear to me that this is maybe getting a little bigger than what Pam had meant when she said she wanted us there. Regardless, there’s nothing to be done at this point, since it’s obvious this has become a runaway train with no way to stop it. I toss back the dregs of my coffee, and pausing a second to kiss Francessca’s little cherub face, get up, and grab my apron.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

  We’re up to our elbows in pastry dough and Cajun shrimp étouffée, when Matt and Ruby come stumbling in, their arms full of Christmas decorations. I’d almost forgotten we’re only a few weeks away. Gunnar usually holds off decorating until the weekend of the Christmas Boat Parade of Lights, when there’s a influx of visitors for the annual lights and display event in the harbor, but then he lets Syd go all out. Looks like Christmas came early.

  By the time I leave to go pick up the kids from school, the pub looks like the inside of a Christmas catalogue, and smells like a New Orleans bayou café. My job is to pick up the kids, get ready, and pick up Pam to take her to Hobbs to collect her son’s ashes.

  It’s been too busy to think much, but every now and then a deep sadness settles in. Sadness for Pam, but also for a man I’ll never have a chance to get to know, who irrevocably changed the course of his short life with one, stupid, adolescent, devastating decision. Senseless.

  The kids are waiting by the curb when I drive up to the school. Gina’s head is bent and Jonas looks murderous.

  “What’s up, guys?” I ask when they climb in the car, Jon
as taking shotgun and Gina, without protest for once, taking the backseat. When neither of them answer, I try to be more direct. “Jonas,” I tackle my son first. “First day back, was it as bad as you expected?” He snorts his derision.

  “It was fine until the brat decided to be a little bitch.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my usually agreeable little princess kicks the back of her brother’s seat while hissing; “Asshole.”

  “Whoa.” I lift a hand off the wheel and grab her ankle when she tries to haul out again. “Knock it off!” My bellow bounces off the windows and a few heads outside even turn to look at the car. “The fuck is wrong with you two?” My voice, not quite so loud, still carries all of the threat.

  “Ask her,” Jonas spits out, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s the one wanting to start trouble. Selfish brat.”

  “Enough with the name calling, already. Not gonna put up with it,” I scold Jonas before shifting my eyes to the rearview mirror, where I see my daughter sitting with her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, pointedly staring out the window. “What’s with you? What trouble is he talking about?” I direct at her. Her eyes flick briefly to meet mine when I turn my body in the seat to look at her straight.

  “Gina? Talk to me.”

  “It’s nothing. He’s making a big deal out of nothing,” she says with vehemence, while shoving the seat in front of her.

  “She says she’s staying home, Dad. She’s being selfish, she doesn’t want to come to the lighthouse.”

  I turn my attention back to Gina, who is peeking at me through her lashes. “Well, that’s easily solved,” I point out. “Since this is not optional attendance, you’re coming, and it’s not up to you, young lady.” I watch her mouth form a stubborn line so I add, “And I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed. It’s important to me we show Pam some support. Life isn’t always easy, but at least we have family—we have each other—but Pam only had her son, and now he’s gone, too.”

  With that I turn my back to her and put the car in drive, pulling out into the road. My hands are grabbing the wheel tight in my attempt to hang onto my temper wanting to unleash. But when I take a glance in the rearview mirror at the first stoplight, my anger evaporates when I see Gina surreptitiously wipes away the tears from her eyes. Ah...Jesus.