Is this what Madeline’s mom and dad went through every time she went into the hospital? I pull out my phone and dial one of the few numbers I know by heart.
“Mom. What are you and Dad doing for dinner?”
Chapter 36
The twenty miles home drags on forever.
“You sure you don’t want to hang out a little longer?” Daniel asks as we pull up to my house. I can hear the sadness in his voice and as much as I want to make him feel better, I know time is the only thing that can do that. Besides, I have my own issues to deal with.
I shake my head. “I really should spend time with my parents,” I say. “You know how protective they’ve been since …”
Daniel gets it. His parents are the same way, which is probably why he doesn’t want to go home. He hates it when they hover. But after meeting James’s mom, I get it. Parents feel as helpless as we do in these situations.
“Look. We’ll get coffee in the morning. I doubt anyone’s going to care if we ditch school.”
“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “Coffee in the morning. I’ll pick you up.”
I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “See you then.” I reach for the handle and am about to step out of the car when he grabs my hand. I look down first at it and then at his face. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”
The tears are streaming down his face. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” he cries. I turn back to embrace him.
“Shhh,” I say, trying to comfort him. “How long has it been?”
“Since I slept?” he asks, but his head is pressing against my shoulder and it comes out in a muffle. I nod. “Not since the day she died. I mean, I’ve taken naps when I can’t hold out any longer, but at night …” His voice breaks off in a sob. “I’m afraid I’ll start to forget her.”
I force him to look at me. “That will never happen. No matter how much time passes or how long it takes for your memory to conjure the image of her face, this”—I point to his chest, just above his heart—“this will never forget her. She’ll always be there. She’s a part of you. She’s a part of both of us.”
“It’s not fair!” he yells, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “It sucks.”
I nod. “No, it’s not fair. And you’re right. It totally sucks.”
“But we’ll get over it, right?” he says bitterly.
I think carefully about how to answer him. Finally, with a sigh, I say, “No. I don’t think we’ll ever get over it. I never got over Grams and she was old. But somehow, in time, we’ll learn to get through it.”
“I hope so. I don’t think I can live with the pain forever.” Daniel wipes his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. “You better go. Your parents are already peeking out at us through the curtain.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be alright. Just promise me you won’t bail on me tomorrow. I can’t face everyone at school without you there to stare them down.”
I stick out my hand. Slowly, he takes it in his own. “Deal.”
After a quick hug, I get out of the car and walk swiftly up the steep lawn toward the bright porch light of my house.
“I’m home!” I call out as I enter, dropping my purse and jacket on the floor. The smell of my mom’s famous sweet and sour chicken makes my mouth water and I head straight to the kitchen where I find my parents, heads bent together, crying. “What’s going on?”
“Dinner’s ready,” my mom says, wiping her eyes before grabbing a heaping bowl of fried rice and heading to the dining room.
“What’s up?” I ask again. “We never eat in here.”
“We just thought it would be nice,” my dad says, sharing a secret look with my mom. Ugh. Do all parents think their children are easily fooled? Something’s up and I have a sinking feeling it won’t be long before I find out what. My money is on the big news that they’re splitting up. Oh man, what if they ask me to pick who I want to live with. How am I supposed to decide that?
The table is set for three. In addition to the chicken and rice, my mom also has crab rangoons and egg rolls from my favorite Chinese restaurant already on a plate.
“Someone’s been busy,” I note, slipping into my chair and unwrapping a pair of chopsticks. I reach across the table and pour a glass of tea.
“Dad helped,” my mom says and I almost drop the pitcher.
“Seriously?” My dad doesn’t know his way around one of those plastic kiddie kitchens, let alone one with working drawers and appliances.
Dad feigns offense at my surprise. “I can cut up chicken and open bags of frozen vegetables, thank you very much. Plus, who do you think picked up the carry-out order?”
I grin and for the first time since I can remember, I feel good. I mean, I’m still sad about Madeline, but it’s been a long time since home felt safe. I wonder how long it will last. “Maybe I should come home for dinner more often.”
My parents sit down and the passing of plates begins. I’m just about to take a bite of my egg roll when my dad clears his throat. “RJ, this may not be the best time, but we need to talk to you about something.”
Oh no. Here it is. They’re splitting up. Saying this may not be the best time is an understatement. Slowly, I put my food back on the plate and wipe my hands on the cloth napkin. “About what?”
My mother answers. “I need to confess something to you.” She’s already crying. “Several months ago, I made a mistake. As you know, the real estate market in the area has been slow. Your dad was working a lot of shifts to make up the difference. I was trying to close that deal to settle transfers for the new factory opening up down south. After the meeting, I stopped for a drink and ran in to an old friend. One thing led to another …”
She isn’t looking at me and I can see the shame on her face. “I already know,” I say.
Both of my parents look at me in surprise. “How?” my mom asks.
“Felicity.”
My dad puts his fork down. “Is that why you started spending time with her again?”
I nod. “She said she’d tell everyone about Mom and her …” I don’t want to say the word.
“My what?” she asks.
“Affair,” I answer, my chin dropping to my chest in defeat. There. It’s out in the open.
Mom pushes back her chair so fast it tips over with a thud. When she reaches my seat, she pulls me in close and I can barely breathe. “You should have told me,” she whispers, stroking my hair.
“I didn’t want to be the reason you and Dad split up. And now it doesn’t matter because you are anyway and I wasted all that time with them when I should have been with Madeline.”
“We’re not getting a divorce,” my father says quietly.
I push myself away from my mom to look at him. “You’re not?”
He shakes his head. “Your mother came to me and confessed shortly after it happened. We’ve been in counseling trying to work through this.”
“Wait, you already knew?” I ask. “You told him?”
“Of course.” She seems more upset that I thought she would lie to my dad than hook up with someone else.
Dad leans forward. “Judging by the lengths you went to protect your mother and me, I have a feeling you think it’s worse than it is.”
“Felicity said you were having a long-term affair with some guy. She never told me who, but she said it was scandalous.”
“Felicity lied,” my mom says. “I did betray your father, but it was one time and it was only a kiss. I wouldn’t even call it an affair. It was more of an indiscretion.”
“Then why would she—”
“Because it was her father,” my mom admits before walking back to pick up her chair. “He and I went to high school together. I told him about the deal I was hoping to close and he mentioned his company was going to bring in new management. He offered me an exclusive contract to represent his new employees when they went to look for a house. With the two accounts, I would be back on top and your dad wouldn’t have
to pull so many shifts.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say. After all these months of thinking the worst of my mother and the wasted time spent with Felicity instead of Madeline and Daniel, the relief is overwhelming. “Then what’s with the family meeting?”
“That was it,” my mom says. “As your father said, we’ve been going to counseling so we can work on rebuilding the trust that was lost. The last step was for me to come clean with you so there weren’t any more secrets between us.”
“Then you’re good?” Both my mom and dad nod. “Well, two good things came out of today.”
“What was the other?” my dad asks, stabbing his fork into a sauce-covered piece of chicken.
While we eat, I tell them about taking the coffee to the hospital with Daniel. I do not, however, tell them about the woman and her son. I probably will—someday—but for now it feels like a story that isn’t mine to tell.
As we’re clearing away the dishes, the doorbell rings. We all look at each other in confusion. “I’ll get it,” I say.
Kicking my purse out of the way, I open the door to see five or six pint-size ghosts and witches and princesses standing in front of me.
“Trick or treat,” they say in unison.
Right. It’s Halloween, and I forgot to turn off the porch light when I came in. “I, uh, don’t know if we have any—”
From behind me, my mother interrupts, her everything-is-fine voice trumpeting, “Of course we have candy, RJ. I stocked up weeks ago.”
And that’s how, on the day we put my best friend in the ground, I spend the evening passing out candy to hundreds of kids. By the time trick-or-treat hours are over, all we have left are a few plain chocolate bars and a ton of Smarties.
“Why do you even bother buying these?” I ask, picking through the candies and unwrapping the chocolate before popping it into my mouth.
“They come in the mix,” my mom says defensively.
I give her a look that implies that’s not a good excuse. “They taste like chalk.”
My dad picks one up and twists it until the tiny disks fall out in his hand. “I like them.”
“Of course you do,” I say with a groan.
I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but tonight’s been fun. It hasn’t been a typical evening, to say the least, but for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m not rushing out the door to a party or to hang out with friends. Unfortunately, thinking about what I used to do only reminds me of Madeline and the walls start closing in. I need air.
“Do you guys mind if I take a short walk?” I ask, twisting the dolphin ring around my finger.
“Are you okay?” my mom asks. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “It’s just been a long day. I need to clear my head.”
My dad reaches for the remote and turns on the DVD player. “We’re going to watch that nightmare movie you like so much.”
I grin. “I’ll be back before the previews are over. Promise.”
Mom looks like she wants to tell me no, but she doesn’t. “Make it quick,” she says as I lean down to kiss her on the cheek.
“I will. Don’t start the movie until I get back.”
Chapter 37
Not sure where I’m going, I head toward the park a couple blocks away. There are still a few groups of kids knocking on doors and their excited cries of “Trick or treat” make me smile. Oh, to be a kid again and not to know that bad stuff is going to happen in your life. I miss being naive. Too bad you can’t turn back the hands of time and do it all over again. There’s that stupid humming again. I take a deep breath of the clean night air. Maybe I should have Mom schedule a checkup with my doctor.
Ahead of me, a trio makes their way up the stairs to another house. The youngest, in a costume that is obviously too large for him, trails behind, yelling for the others to wait. They stop just long enough for him to catch up and then sprint the rest of the way up the walk.
It only takes a few minutes to reach the park, which is completely empty. Looking around to make sure no one is watching, I climb to the top of the jungle gym and let my feet dangle off the end of the bars. I turn my head to the stars. There’s something kind of freeing about being up off the ground and just a few feet closer to the sky.
“Are you out there?” I ask to the vast openness. “Madeline, can you hear me?” My only answer is the distant laughter of children. I wonder if she saw the people who came out for her funeral. I wonder if she saw the impact her words had on those who were listening. I say up to the sky, “Daniel’s having a pretty rough time, but I guess you know that. To tell you the truth, we all are.” Now silence is the only answer.
“I guess you probably have your answer as to whether Heaven exists, huh?” There’s the humming in the back of my mind again. It’s like a memory is trying to break free. I push it aside and continue talking to Madeline. “By now I’m sure you’ve charmed the big guy, haven’t you? Is he going to give you a set of wings?” The humming gets louder.
But it doesn’t matter. My sudden sobs drown out the din in my head. She’s really gone and the only way I can pretend to talk to her is to stare up at the sky and babble to no one. I jump down from the metal contraption and head home. The streets are almost completely empty now and most of the front porches are dark. Coming toward me, on the other side of the street, is the trio of kids I saw earlier
“Come on, Tommy. Keep up. Mom’s going to kill us if we aren’t home in five minutes,” the tallest of the three calls over her shoulder.
“I’m trying,” the little boy wails, gripping his pillow case bulging with candy in one hand and hiking up his dragging costume with the other. They cross the road and the two older children zigzag to avoid running into me.
“Guys, wait up!” their brother calls again. Chasing after them like a duckling following its mother, he steps out into the street but his costume gets the better of him. He stumbles forward, the bag of candy falling helplessly to the ground, and skids to a stop in the middle of the road.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the twin white dots of a car turning the corner. There’s no way the driver will see the kid. Without thinking, I dash over to the boy and scoop him up. He weighs more than I expect and I stagger to stand upright while running. There’s no way I can get out of the way with both of us. A second later, I launch him toward the grass as hard as I can. He looks back at me, his eyes wide with terror. Off in the distance, I hear screams from his sisters. A moment later, I hear the squeal of tires and feel the impact as the hood ornament slices into my side. I’m thrown through the windshield. My head pierces the glass and the last thing I see as the blood trickles into my vision is the pure whiteness of the air bag blocking the driver from my view.
I close my eyes as porch after porch lights up. Everyone wants to see what’s going on. I hear the cries of the little boy as his sister tries to comfort him. I wonder if the other one went to get their mom. I hope they aren’t in trouble.
Slowly, just as the wail of the ambulance siren sounds, I begin to feel. First, it’s the sharp pain in my head. Next, my leg begins to ache and my wrist does the same not long after that. But it isn’t until I breathe that I realize what real pain feels like. Each effort results in a burning sensation. I try to cough, but it sounds more like a wheeze, and I can feel something dripping out of the corner of my mouth.
“RJ,” someone is saying to me as they shine a white light in my eyes. “Can you hear me?”
I try to nod, but my neck is stiff and I’m pretty sure it’s not working.
“Don’t try to talk,” the voice commands.
If I’m not supposed to talk, why is he asking me questions?
The next sound I hear is the screech of my mother. “No! RJ, baby, no! Get away from me! That’s my daughter!”
I hear my father yelling something, but by now, the world is starting to go quiet. The only thing I can hear clearly is the calm voice of a dispatcher talking to the guy who aske
d me questions and then told me not to talk.
Red and blue lights begin flashing and in a moment I’m on a stretcher and sliding into what must be an ambulance. “Her parents are en route with one of the officers,” the paramedic relays to the operator. “No way am I letting them ride with us when she looks this bad.”
Um, hello, I can totally hear you. When I get to evaluate this whole experience, I am definitely going to comment on your poor bedside manner.
“Witnesses say she threw the kid out of the way,” the driver calls from the cab. “I’d hate to see what would have happened to him if she hadn’t been there.”
“Yeah. Little tyke’s lucky. Skinned up knee and a fat lip are nothing compared to this.”
Okay, how bad is it? I’m guessing I have a broken leg, because that thing hurts like crazy, but other than my head, I hope that’s the worst of it.
“I’m going to give you something to help with the pain, RJ. But stay with me, okay?”
The cool sensation starts to move through my body, covering every ache and pain until I feel like I’m floating on a cloud.
The next time I try to open my eyes I have to shut them against the harsh light. I can hear my mom crying from the other side of the door. My lids are too heavy and I give in to the strong urge to sleep.
I have no idea how much time passes until I feel like I want to wake up. But this time, I can’t. I can’t lift my eyelids open. I can’t flex my fingers. I can’t move at all. The constant beep of my heart on the monitor is the only thing that reassures me I am not dead, and I sink back into the warm abyss of not caring.
While I sleep, I start seeing flashes of Madeline and Grams. They keep telling me that everything is going to be okay and that I should just relax. Apparently neither of them ever had the drugs I’m taking because that is not a problem.
I wake up briefly. This time, there’s something covering my eyes. I can’t see anything, but I can hear my mother crying softly. I must be in my hospital room or something. I want to tell her that I’m okay, but I can’t. My throat is sore and the thought of talking makes me want to gag. I hear my father come in.
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