One person was absent. My father had called me that morning and told me he couldn’t attend. He had a case of the flu, and felt a fever. I told him I would come by after the party. I was hurt and sad that he wasn’t there. More than anybody, I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see that his little girl was a woman now. I wanted to feel his hug and see his tears. Just before he hung up he said, “You’ve done something special, but you’ll always be my baby girl.”
I was given a box of my books, and in that box was a check for the first half of my advance. Ten thousand dollars on a single piece of paper! It felt so good; that was a lot of money in those days. I signed the first few books and gave them to my guests. I also gave one each to Stella and George. On each of theirs I wrote, “I hope this is the beginning of a long relationship.” I meant it too…I wanted to work with those two for as long as I possibly could! I think it was the selfish belief that I somehow deserved to keep writing and having that work published. I’m not sure anymore. But they were great to work with, and they did publish a few of my best works.
We drank champagne and talked and laughed. All the focus was on me and my book. For a girl who had felt outside of society and social circles, I was surrounded by smart, gifted people who were toasting me. I was with beautiful people, two of whom I loved physically. I had come so far, so fast. I knew David was the catalyst. David put me in this spot. All of this came from him. I loved him more than ever at this moment. Perhaps that was selfish as well, but it was how I felt. And beautiful, sweet Keiko was by my side telling me how proud she was of me. I honestly didn’t think the moment could get any better.
But something nagged at me. I knew something was wrong. A tiny, distant voice inside me told me something was wrong. It was like a shout across a valley, insistent but faint. But it kept shouting, and the echoes brought it to me. It became urgent and demanding.
The tiny voice told me there was something wrong with my father. I ignored it at first…I didn’t want to spoil the festivities. I would call him later. My friends had come to see me and share in my moment. But it kept after me. Something in my father’s tone had been off. Something needed to be discussed. Wrong…it was all wrong. I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
I asked George to use his phone, and he led me to his office in a quiet corner. I dialed home, just wanting to hear my father’s voice. I wanted to hear him say he was okay, and then I would return to the party and drink too much.
The phone rang. No answer.
I knew then. It was an immediate knowledge. No more pretending.
I dialed one more time, but knew he wouldn’t answer the second time.
I made my way back out to the party. David smiled at me, but his brows furrowed when he saw my face. “You okay, Rachel? What’s wrong?” He put his hands on my shoulders, and looked directly into my eyes.
“Something’s wrong at home. My father.”
“How do you know?” I felt Keiko move next to me.
“I just know. Can we leave soon? I want to go home and check on him.”
“Sure, whatever you want.” He immediately moved to collect our things.
“Honey, tell me…what’s wrong?” Keiko’s hand had slipped into mine. She stood very close.
“My father didn’t answer the phone. There’s a phone right by his bed. I know something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go out front and get a taxi for us.” She moved quickly to the door.
I gave quick apologies to everybody, and followed David out to the street. Everybody saw the consternation on my face, so nobody protested.
During the ride, nobody spoke. David and Keiko flanked me, and I held their hands. I began to squeeze as we crossed the Queensboro. When we reached my neighborhood, I felt the hot tears burning my eyes. I knew. In my heart and mind I knew what I would find.
My father was already cold when we arrived. I saw his twisted and anguished form on his bed. His frozen expression was panic and fear. I should have known…no matter how sick he was, he would’ve come to see me that day. His “flu” was the beginning of the massive heart attack that took his life that day. I should have been there for him. In many ways, I never forgave myself for not being there in his last hours. My father, a man who gave everything for me, died alone.
28
It took months for the shroud to lift. That merciless black pall smothered me. I was crushed under the weight of it. The Fates laughed as Atropos cut my father’s thread, measured far too short by Lachesis. We mortals live in the ash and ruin of their weaving, don’t we? My father was fifty-five when he died. And I now had no family.
I wouldn’t talk to anybody, not even David. I sat alone in our house in Queens, and fully realized my solitude. The immensity of it hit me like a freight train. When my mother had died, I still had my father, and I still had our home. I still had all the trappings of our family. My father’s presence and calm had reassured me. His strength had protected me. He and I had built a new life. Though I had missed a female influence in my life, especially as I grew into puberty, my father was granite strength and calm. A foundation I could always depend on.
But then my new life and loves had taken hold of me. Entirely. All at once. I had flown into their arms. Satisfied my lust on their bodies. Found solace in our shared sweat and heavy breaths. I let passion and desire control nearly every waking moment.
In doing so, I had left my father alone. The house had dirty dishes. The laundry wasn’t done. I had left my father to die alone in a bed with dirty sheets. What kind of daughter was I? I blamed myself. I had let my loins lead me away from my only remaining family. My father hardly saw me once I met David. Despite my promises, I was rarely there. Had I been home, I would’ve seen my father’s ill condition, surely. How could I have missed that his health was deteriorating? I would have insisted he go to the hospital, and perhaps he would be alive.
In the refrigerator, there was almost no food. The freezer was stuffed with frozen dinners. My father was forced to eat poor food, and sit at home alone without anybody there to care for him. I was all he had, and when I ran to my lovers he sat alone, eating crappy food and having little contact with others. His death was just a matter of time.
To this day, I haven’t overcome the guilt. I abandoned the father who stood by me, and I did so to pleasure myself. I did so to do things sexually he would’ve never approved of. What kind of woman does this? I was sleeping with my boyfriend and another married couple regularly. I had sex with strangers in swing clubs. I was living in sin. I was ignoring what my parents had taught me.
My father’s funeral had two attendees. One of them was our pastor. I had not told anybody about it, especially not David, Keiko, or Mark. I didn’t want to deal with other people, and I felt having them there would have been unseemly. I stood there in my black dress and cried rivers as the pastor read his passages. As my father was lowered, I knelt by the grave and watched the box enter the earth. I threw flowers on his casket and then sat and cried as they covered him. Reverend Johnson had to drive me home.
Two days after his funeral, a buyer approached me about his business, which was now my business, though I knew little about it. I might have put it out for bids and gained a much better price, but I was lost and over my head. I took his offer, signed the papers in my kimono, and was glad to be done with it. I didn’t even deposit the check for some time.
I refused to answer the phone. We didn’t have answering machines in those days. I refused to answer the door when David or Keiko came by, though they did several times. When I heard them knocking and calling out to me, I sat motionless and waited for them to leave. I was beyond consolation. I began to think I didn’t deserve to live myself. I began to think about the type of person I was and the type of person I was becoming. I didn’t like what I found. No, that’s not strong enough. I hated the person I was. The thought of ending my life ran through me several times.
After a few weeks of sitting alone, I found myself one day dressed in a stained sweatshirt
, an oversized pair of shorts, and socks with holes in the toes. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the face staring back at me. My hair was knotted. My eyes were sagging. I was blanched and drawn. I looked like a horror show. I was a goblin living in the home of my dead parents.
That image of myself made something in me snap, like a guitar string strung too tightly. I think it was a coping mechanism that kicked off inside me. Survival instinct, perhaps? Overnight, I became obsessive. I decided I needed to clean the house. It began simply by doing the laundry. Then I swept. Then I mopped. Then I cleaned out the refrigerator. I washed my father’s clothes, though I knew he would never need them again. I mopped and dusted the attic. I cleaned the windows. I ironed the drapes. Before I knew it, I was scrubbing the corners with a toothbrush. I had to make this house clean.
I think now it was me I was cleaning, not the house. This cleaning was a cathartic experience for me. I had to clean the filth of the house to clean the filth I felt inside of me.
When I finally had done all I knew how to do, weeks later, I picked up the phone and called Keiko.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Keiko, it’s Rachel.” I was surprised at how tired my voice sounded.
“Oh my God, Rachel. Are you okay? We’ve all been so worried. I came by a few times. I’ve called and called…”
“I know, I’m sorry…”
“Are you okay, honey? Where are you?”
“I’m at my father’s house, in Queens.”
“Have you called David? He has been worried to death.”
“No, not yet. I called you first. I’ll call him next.”
“Can I come over?”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready yet. Maybe in a few more days.”
“Okay, honey…whatever you want. Can I do anything for you?”
“Actually, that’s why I called. I need your help.”
“Sure, honey…anything…what can I do?”
“I need a good real estate agent. I want to sell this house.” I was looking around at the house as I said this. So many memories. The Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. The pencil marks on the wall showing my growth. All there.
“Of course, I know several. The market is slow right now, so it might take some time.”
“I know…I’m in no hurry. I just can’t stay in here any longer.”
“Yeah, no problem. You should do well when it finally sells. It’s larger than many in that area. Are you going to move in with David?”
“No. I don’t think I’m ready to do that. I think I want to buy my own place. Maybe the Upper West Side.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll tell him. It’s pricey there, but if you find something, it’s a great location.” She paused. “So how about us, honey? Is everything okay?”
“Okay?”
“You know…”
“I can’t even think about that now, Keiko. Please give me some time.”
“Of course…whatever you want.” Her voice sounded plaintive, but I had nothing to offer her.
“Okay, we’ll talk later.”
“Bye, honey.”
I hung up the phone.
29
David stood on my doorstep for some time, knocking softly at first, but progressively heavier. I had seen him, and hoped he would go away. He didn’t.
“I know you’re in there, Rachel. I spoke to Keiko. Open up…please.” His deep voice boomed, and I was worried the neighbors would get interested.
I opened the door. I was a mess…I hadn’t showered; I was wearing those same sweats, and my hair was everywhere. He stepped in and put his arms around me.
“Where have you been, Rachel? I’ve been coming by and calling. Where were you?”
“I’ve been here.”
“The whole time?” He seemed stunned.
“Yes, the whole time.”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone? Why didn’t you answer the door?” His hands were on my shoulders. I was looking down. I didn’t have a face to show him
“I needed some time alone, David. I needed to be by myself.”
“Rachel, it has been almost six weeks!”
“I know. I’m sorry. You wouldn’t understand.”
Now he seemed hurt. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“This is deeply personal, David. I’ve lost my family. All of them. I’m all alone. My family has been everything to me.”
“You’re not alone, Rachel. I love you.”
“My mother and father were all I had most of my life. Now they’re both gone. This house…this house is where we all lived.”
“I’m so sorry they’re gone, Rachel. But you can’t be mad at yourself over this.”
“Can’t I? Can’t I, David? I promised to visit my father often. But how many times did I? I saw you and Mark and Keiko all the time. I had time to have sex with all of you. Regularly. Yet I couldn’t come by and take care of him. If I had taken care of him, maybe he wouldn’t have died. He was living on TV dinners and junk food. He was too young to die like that.”
“Oh God, Rachel. You’re blaming yourself for his death? Because you weren’t cooking for him?”
“He was my father! It was my job.” My voice had risen too much, and he could sense my anger.
“Calm down, Rachel. He was a full-grown man. He could take care of himself. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t, okay?”
“David, I need you to leave. I need some time alone. I need to think things through.”
“Keiko told me you’re selling this house.”
“Yeah, I am. I have too many memories here. Ghosts.”
“She told me you didn’t want to, but I’d like you to move in with me.”
I was surprised, but not too much. “No, David, I’m not ready for that.” It might seem like a small thing now, but moving in with someone in those days was a big deal.
“Well, you are free to do whatever you want…”
“Thank you,” I interrupted.
“…but think about it, okay?”
“I will.” I was lying, though later I would.
He tried to kiss me, but my face dropped. He kissed me on my hair. I had never seen his body language show defeat, but he showed it now. I didn’t care. I wasn’t in a place to think about him. He turned to the door, and grabbed the knob. Over his shoulder, he spoke softly.
“I’m leaving tomorrow. Three weeks.”
“Where are you going?”
“Moscow. We’re doing a story and shoot. Then I’ll fly up to Saint Petersburg and do some solo work on the palaces there. I’m starting to work on another book.” He turned back, waiting for my response. I didn’t have anything to offer.
“Have a good trip, David.” My words were without affect.
He didn’t say another word. He walked out, and closed the door behind him. For a moment I wanted to follow him. I wanted to go after him and hold him again. But I was too wrapped up in myself. I had nothing emotionally to give him.
I knew I was being exceptionally selfish. I knew I was chasing away people who loved me. I knew all of this, but I couldn’t stop my self-destruction. I was paying penance. I was punishing myself for my crimes.
30
Keiko’s real estate agent helped me get the property listed. I decided to stay in it until I sold it. Living there until it sold would be my last contact with that house. When sold, I would donate all the furniture, and besides a few old photo albums I would get rid of anything that would remind me of my days living there.
The next Sunday, I slept in. I was sleeping more and more, but this day I slept until the afternoon. I got up and made myself some eggs. I sat on the sofa, and turned on the television.
I hadn’t watched the TV since I had been there. I honestly had lost track of which day it was. Football came on, so I knew it had to be Sunday. I was about to turn it off when the announcer came back from his commercial break and told me, “Welcome back to the Meadowlands of New Jersey, where the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are facing the
New York Giants.”
I sat on the sofa slowly eating my eggs. I didn’t understand football, but I was curious if I would see Mark. First, though, I noticed the horrible orange of the Tampa Bay team. What were they thinking? They looked more like Halloween costumes than football uniforms.
Then I saw Mark make an important play. I saw the quarterback throw the ball to a tall, muscular receiver. I knew right away it was Mark from his movements. A member of the Tampa team attempted to tackle him. Mark shoved him off with his left arm, and ran down the sideline. He kept running, though several men were in pursuit.
The announcer went wild! “That’s Freeman on the catch. Oh! He shoves the defender out of the way. He’s running loose! 50…40…30…nobody will catch him! Touchdown, New York Giants!” As Mark ran into the end zone, he threw the ball hard onto the field, and then was mobbed by his teammates.
And I was ecstatic! Not because he was someone I slept with or anything like that. He was a friend who had just done something amazing. I didn’t understand it, but obviously this was a stunning feat of athleticism. I could see how powerful his strides were, and he looked so immense and muscular, even next to others his own size.
I jumped up and shouted when he scored! I spilled my eggs, but I didn’t care. I was so happy for Mark. I jumped around the living room and hooted. I wondered if Keiko was at the game. I wondered if they would celebrate after. I wondered how it felt to see a game like that. I watched replay after replay, and they showed the catch and touchdown from several angles.
It’s interesting that a football game was what brought me back around, but that’s what did it. A game I didn’t understand gave me a quickening in my soul. I started thinking about David, and Mark, and Keiko. I started to think about the love we shared. I started thinking about the life and the experiences we had together. I started to miss them, especially David.
Follow You Down (Farfalla Book 1) Page 21