by Freya Barker
-
“Let’s go!”
I’m yelling up the stairs, for the third time in the past ten minutes. I’m not sure what Gina is doing up there, it’s not like we’re getting dressed up or anything. We’re all to come as we are, as per Pam’s instructions. Who, by the way, is probably wondering where the fuck we are. “Gina! Butt down here, now!”
Finally I hear sounds of movement; a door slams and finally the extra-heavy treads of my unusually defiant daughter come plodding down the stairs. Jonas is already in the car, where I sent him when it looked like he was gonna lose his shit with his sister’s attitude. She’s being a pain in the ass, which is something we’re not used to, and I’m well aware her behavior is only a symptom of what is really going on with her. Now’s just not a good time to dig into whatever it is. We’ve got people waiting.
-
I don’t even have to prompt Jonas when we pull into Pam’s driveway to find her waiting on the steps. The moment I put the car in park, he’s out of the car and slips into the backseat next to his sister. Pam gets in beside me, and despite the audience, I lean over and give her a soft kiss that has her pop her eyes wide open.
“You ready?” I carefully ask, straightening in my seat.
“As ready as I can be,” she responds before swiveling her head to the kids. “Hey guys. Appreciate you coming.”
“No problem,” Jonas says and Gina just mumbles something incoherent.
Pam turns to me with an eyebrow raised, and I give my head a slight shake; the universal grown-up sign for ‘later.’
By the time we turn onto the funeral home parking lot, Pam’s hands are wringing in her lap, and the moment I have the car parked, I reach over and cover them with my hand, giving her a little squeeze.
“Want to wait here, kids? We’ll be right back.”
“It’s okay,” Pam says, her voice a little shaky. “I’ll manage.”
“I’m coming with you,” I dictate, not about to let her go in there by herself. Before she has a chance to object, I get out, round the car, and open her door for her.
“Really, I’m okay,” she mutters, as I open the front door for her.
“I know you are,” I concur. “But I’m still coming in.” Some of the fire is back when she rolls her eyes at me. Good.
It doesn’t take long. Pam hands over a check and receives a nondescript, brown box in return. Inside is a plain urn with all that is left of her only child. The significance hits me when she walks outside in front of me, holding the box like it’s her greatest treasure. I guess it is.
The short drive to the Portland Head Light is eerily quiet; all of us very aware of the fifth person in the car with us. Already, familiar cars are parked in the small lot at the circular drive. The sun has already gone down, and other than the light coming from the lighthouse itself, all I can see is a faint flickering coming from the point, where we sat just a few days ago. The kids get out of the car without a word and start walking down the path toward it. When I walk around the car to let Pam out, I notice her attention is focused on the faint light in the distance, her face a tight mask. She doesn’t even react when I open her door. Not until I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go, honey.”
She blinks a few times at the sound of my voice and allows me to help her out of the car, the box firmly clenched in her hands.
It’s quiet when we walk toward the rocky outcropping, my arm around her shoulders for support. There’s a soft breeze, no voices, just the sound of the sea lapping at the rocks below. The sight of the group assembled around the bench, every one of them with a small candle in their hands, has Pam choke out a sob and I have to swallow hard. No one says anything; we’re all waiting to take our cue from Pam, who is no longer attempting to hide her emotions.
Where the pavement ends, there’s a dirt trail that runs right to the edge of the point. Pam heads in that direction and I follow close behind. A few steps on the trail, she turns around.
“Wait for me?”
All I can do is nod as I force myself to stand still as she continues her trek to the edge. There, she takes the urn out of the box, lifts the lid, and in a strong arc, flings the ashes to the wind and water. Her arms are outstretched on either side as her head falls back. She stands frozen like that, an image that burns itself in my heart.
It’s all I can do not to rush out there and haul her back from that edge, but then I see her head straighten and her arms drop down, the urn slipping from her hand and bouncing with a clang off the rocks, and into the water below. The moment she turns around toward me, I’m moving.
Ready to catch her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pam
It’s quiet in my house. Too quiet.
I thought maybe after saying my final goodbye to Derrick by the lighthouse, I at least could force myself back into my regular routine, but it’s been hard. Everyone was wonderful at The Skipper afterward, trying hard to show me their care, but the truth is, I just wanted to be home by myself. I had to brush Dino off, who’d pushed me to stay the night with him, so I wouldn’t be alone, even though that’s exactly what I wanted to be. Alone.
It does something to you, when the last of your blood is gone. My parents are long gone, and I didn’t have a particularly close relationship with them after I ended up pregnant at barely eighteen. They never knew Derrick, nor did they want to. It still boggles my mind they could dismiss their child, as well as their grandchild, so easily. Parents are supposed to be there unconditionally, but mine weren’t. I swore I’d be a better parent than that, but it turned out I had my own failings. I loved my boy to distraction but I struggled, making bad decision after bad decision. As a result, I wasn’t looking out for him the way I should’ve been, so when he was ultimately arrested, charged, and convicted of murder, I vowed I’d stay by his side, no matter what. Like a parent should.
But here I am, my only child gone, and the rest of my life a big gaping hole in front of me.
I went to Florence House twice these past few days to try and get a handle on the Christmas preparations I normally would have taken care of a long time ago. Each time Brenda sent me home when she found me staring at the wall of my office. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything without my mind drifting to that moment on the rocks, when I gave my boy over to the elements. Giving him up. I wanted to throw myself right after him. The only thing holding me back was the faint knowledge that I couldn’t do that to the people behind me. The friends who’d turned out to have my back. Their children...God I don’t even want to think about what it would’ve done to them to witness that. Yet, I think of that moment all the time.
Since then I’ve purposely let my phone battery drain and haven’t bothered charging it. I can’t handle the calls to check up on me anymore. If it wasn’t Dino, it would be Viv, or one of the others. I don’t want to be reminded of the holiday season and I don’t want to be a drain on theirs.
Last night there was knocking at my door. I’d been sitting on the couch in the dark and didn’t respond. It stopped after a while. Then again this morning, and this time I could hear Viv yelling my name, but I still never moved from my spot.
For the last few hours it’s been quiet, so when there is renewed knocking on the door, it startles me. I’m frozen when I hear a scratching sound, followed shortly by the decisive clank of my lock being released, right before Dino comes storming in, Ike right on his heels.
“She’s okay,” he says over his shoulder to Ike, before bending over, holding on to his knees. “Christ, Biscuit. You scared the ever loving crap out of me.” The familiar rumble of his voice does something to me. It seems to cut through the numbness I’ve surrounded myself with and makes me feel. I don’t want to feel. I prefer the numbness.
In the background I can hear Ike having a conversation with someone—I presume on his phone—while Dino walks over and crouches in front of me.
“You’re a mess,” he says, and I flinch when he puts his hand against my
face. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
I let him pull me up from the couch, my legs asleep from being folded under my body for however long. I wobble a little, but his strong arm instantly closes around my waist as he walks me down the hallway to the bathroom.
“Bath or shower?” he asks, as he moves me to lean against the vanity and opens the shower curtain. I can’t bring myself to answer, so he does it for me. “Bath it is.”
The whole thing is like watching myself from a distance, yet every touch of Dino’s hands on my body, as he undresses me, I feel straight to my soul. And it fucking hurts. I’m starting to notice other things, like the flow of the water as it fills the bathtub, the sounds of movement from my living room, a surprising pang of hunger in my empty stomach, and the smell of a body that’s gone unwashed for too long.
“I stink.”
“Get in the tub,” Dino orders, helping me over the side. “You don’t stink, you could just do with a scrub,” he says once I’m seated. He grabs a loofah hanging off the plastic hook, squirts some shower gel on it, and proceeds to gently scrub my back.
“What day is it?” I ask, a little disoriented as his ministrations make my skin tingle.
“Day before Christmas Eve,” he answers. “The twenty-third. I wanted to give you some time, honey, but you’ve been unreachable since Wednesday night.”
“I’m not sure if I can do this,” I whisper under my breath, but of course he hears me.
“You don’t have to do anything. Nobody has any expectations, except for one thing; you have to take care of yourself, and you’re not doing that right now—so I’m jumping in.”
I feel a surprising surge of indignant anger at his words.
“Who do you think you are? Coming in here and pushing me around?” The smirk that curls around the edges of his mouth doesn’t do much for my sudden burst of anger.
“There she is.” He full out smiles before he leans in, his face just inches from mine and suddenly dead serious. “Just so you know, I don’t give a fuck if you get mad at me. I’d much rather have you pissed off at me than indifferent. I know you’re hurting in a way I can’t even imagine, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you disappear under the weight, Biscuit. I care too fucking much. We need you, Pam—but not just that, you fucking need us, too.”
Dino
By the time I have her out of the tub and pull some clothes out of the drawers in her bedroom, Pam is back in fighting mode and reinforcements have arrived. Viv is standing in the doorway when Pam, who I left alone in the bathroom to dress, walks out. Viv is across the room in an instant, pulling the taller Pam in a fierce hug. For a moment she stands there, not moving, but then Pam’s arms slowly come around Viv’s back, and her head drops down on her shoulder.
“I’ll go see about some food,” I suggest, leaving the two women and closing the door behind me. I’m not surprised that despite the fact it is nine thirty on a Friday, I find Ruby and Syd already puttering around the kitchen, but there’s no sign of Ike. “Where did Ike go?” I ask as Ruby walks up and gives me a hug.
“Viv had Francessca with her, so he took the baby home. Gunnar stayed home with the kids and wants me to let him know whether we need to close down the pub today,” Syd informs me.
“Can’t shut the pub down today. It’s gonna be packed tonight,” I counter.
“Well then, talk to my husband, because he’s ready to put a sign on the door.”
I grab my phone to call Gunnar to tell him we need to keep the pub open. It’s a perfect excuse to pull Pam out of her self-imposed exile. She may not be ready to deal with the heavy emotional demand of the shelter, but at least we can give her some safe, comfortable distraction. It’s all hands on deck at the pub from here on in, and this year for the first time, I’ve asked Jonas to give me a hand in the kitchen these busy days. It’s their first day of Christmas break today, which means they’re both still in bed at home. Gina’s scheduled to head over to Marcy this afternoon and spend the night there. Tomorrow is Syd’s annual charity dinner at the pub, and I’m planning to have both kids there to lend a hand.
“Are Emmy and Dex gonna be there tomorrow?” I ask Syd.
“Yup,” she says easily, handing me a mug of coffee and waving me to a stool. “I’ve got the apartment stocked with snacks and pop, and Dex is bringing over his PlayStation tomorrow, so if Gina wants to hang with him, I’m sure he won’t mind.”
The small apartment above the pub has served us all well over the years. Viv spent some time there when she first came back to town and was getting her feet under her. Later it was Syd who lived there for a while. In between it’s served as crash pad for Gunnar or anyone else who needed a place to stay for a night. I’ve even spent a occasional night, if driving home was no longer an option, but that was before things blew up with Jeannie. Aside from that, it’s been a perfect hangout for any of our kids, if we couldn’t make other arrangements or just wanted them close by.
Just as Ruby, who is always the quiet one of the bunch, slides a plate with huevos rancheros in front of me, Viv comes down the hall, Pam following a little slower. I can tell she’s a little overwhelmed, when she sees the two women puttering in her kitchen, but quickly pulls herself together and appears to welcome the hugs she receives.
“What is this?” she asks, looking at everyone in turn. “Some kind of intervention?” Her voice has an undeniable edge and it renders the others silent. Surprisingly Ruby is the first one to speak up.
“Hardly,” she snorts. “Interventions are your department, we’re just here for the food and the fabulous company.” The deadpan reaction is so out of character for Ruby, it has everybody burst out laughing. Including Pam. Laughing turns into a few tears, and I quickly pull her into my arms, while the other three make themselves busy with coffee, toast, and breakfast. The only three women I know who can comfortably share a kitchen without getting in each other’s way or on each other’s nerves.
“Are you good?” I mumble in Pam’s ear, whose face is pressed into my neck. At her slight nod, I loosen my arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before I release her completely. She pulls out a stool, sits beside me, and a second later she has her own plate slid in front of her, along with a cup of steaming coffee.
While we eat in silence, Ruby scoots down the hallway and comes back with a pile of laundry in her hands. The instant Pam sees her she jumps up.
“Oh no. Don’t do that, I was planning to do that later.” Ruby stops her in her tracks with a stern glare and a single raised eyebrow.
“You housed me for months. Fed me. Helped me back on my feet. And yet you want to rob me of the chance to do something back? Something as silly as laundry? Madre de Dios. You are a stubborn one.” With that she steps around Pam and disappears into the laundry room behind the kitchen.
I have to swallow down a chuckle when I see Pam’s somewhat disgruntled face as she returns to her stool. I hear her mumble, “Don’t have a say in my own damn house,” under her breath, as she violently stabs at a piece of egg with her fork.
“Better get used to it,” Viv adds oil to the fire. “Not like you’re really scaring any of us, no matter how hard you try.”
Instead of firing back, Pam just harrumphs and rolls her eyes, causing Syd to snort. And just like that, everyone starts laughing again. I watch Pam closely to see if the tears will follow but when she looks at me, they are dry—and warm.
-
“Why can’t I just stay home?” Pam asks for the second time when we’ve cleaned away the dishes and I want to get going to the pub. The girls have already left in Viv’s car and left me to convince Pam.
“Because—we don’t want to leave you here. I don’t want to leave you by yourself with nothing but your thoughts. Besides, the kids have been asking about you.” Well, that’s partially true; Jonas has, but Gina has barely said a word since Pam collapsed in my arms on the rocks. She’s been pensive and quiet, only responding when asked a direct question.
“You�
��re full of shit,” Pam throws back. “And you don’t play fair, throwing the kids in the mix.”
I just shrug my shoulders; whatever gets the job done is my motto. “All’s fair in love and war,” I throw out and notice Pam freezing at my words. Oddly enough when she starts moving, it’s to grab her boots and winter coat. She’ll need them because it just started snowing.
We swing by my house to pick Jonas up, who climbs in the backseat, leans into the front of the car, and gives an unsuspecting Pam a kiss on her cheek. Threw me for a loop, too. I’ve always touched and hugged my kids, told them I love them, and until earlier this year, both kids reciprocated. Not so much anymore, which is why I’m a little shocked Jonas would be demonstrative like that.
“Hey, boy,” Pam says with a tremulous little smile, throwing a look over her shoulder. “How are you doing?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you?” my son shoots back, putting a smile on my face. Like father like son, whether he likes it or not.
I throw a quick glance at Pam, who is rolling her eyes, and I can’t hold back the chuckle, which earns me a nasty glare.
“I’m good, Jonas,” she says, and now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. She’s full of it.
The moment we get to The Skipper, everyone, including Pam, is given prep tasks. The afternoon passes quickly, and I notice her even cracking a smile from time to time. When the pub is at full capacity, Pam helps to run orders between the kitchen and the bar, and by the time it’s nearing in on ten o’clock, she looks exhausted.
“Sit down before you fall down,” I tell her when she shows her face in the kitchen.
“I’m not some frail flower,” she sputters indignantly, but I notice she does pull out a kitchen chair and sits her ass down.