by E. N. Joy
Paige stared at Samantha, the bleached blonde who was a little rough around the edges but had a flair about her. She was a cross between Paris Hilton and Jodie Foster. “What did you say?” Paige was fixated on Samantha’s mouth as she awaited her response. It was like she wanted to be able to see the words come out.
“I said my brother is that little girl’s—”
“No, not that. You said something about Norman being in love with me. How do you know? How do you know that? Did he tell you? Did he say those exact same words? That he was in love with me?” The more Paige spoke, the more intense she became. And with every line she spoke, she got closer and closer to Samantha. “When? When did he say that to you? Tell me! Tell me!” By now Paige had let one hand loose from the baby and was shaking Samantha’s shoulder. Paige knew for certain she’d been in love with Norman, but—and as selfish as it might sound—she needed to know that Norman had been in love with her too. She needed just that one thing to be able to help her get through her loss. “Tell me. How do you know, Samantha? How do you know he was in love with me? Is that what he said?”
“Paige, stop it!” her parents ordered her in unison. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson had followed Paige back into the waiting room after they bid Pastor Margie and the church members farewell.
“How do you know your brother was in love with me?” Paige continued, even as her mother slid the baby from her arms.
“Samantha, tell her,” Mrs. Vanderdale shouted, hoping that by doing so, it would calm Paige down.
“The officer! The police officer!” Samantha yelled as she tried to peel now both Paige’s hands from her shoulder.
As if Samantha had summoned him, the police officer that had followed the doctor into the room earlier reappeared. “Is everything okay in here? The nurse told me I could now speak to the deceased’s wife.”
Just hearing the officer’s last words, Paige yelled out like a wounded animal and squatted down to the floor. “Nooooooooooo!” That word, deceased. It sealed everything. It made it real. Paige was a widow and the honeymoon had just begun. “Noooooo!”
“Oh, God, help us,” Mrs. Robinson lifted her hands in the air and said, then threw herself into her husband’s chest.
Mr. Robinson, with the help of the officer, got Paige over to the couch while Mrs. Robinson tried to calm down Adele, whose mother’s scream had scared her into a crying fit.
“Paige, just calm down, please,” Mr. Robinson pleaded with his daughter. “Let the officer talk to you, honey, please.”
Paige eventually managed to calm herself down and look at the officer, giving him the hint it was okay to proceed with his questioning.
“Mrs. Paige Vanderdale,” the officer started, “like I told everyone else, I’m so sorry about your loss. Your husband’s car veered off the road into a pole. It was a one-car accident. Passerbys phoned in the accident. When medics arrived at the scene, your husband was pronounced dead. From what the doctors said, it was more than likely an instant death upon impact. He was driving about fifty miles . . .”
Paige was trying her best to stay focused. The officer’s words were going in and out. The feeling was just so surreal. She couldn’t believe it was happening. She couldn’t believe she was sitting there listening to the details of her thirty-year-old husband’s death. Too young to die.
“We checked his alcohol level,” the officer said, “and—”
“Norman doesn’t drink,” Paige interrupted.
“Yes, I know. Your in-laws shared that with me,” the officer told Paige. “Medically it doesn’t seem like anything might have triggered him to lose consciousness or anything. If a full autopsy is performed, the doctors can learn more, but . . .” The officer’s voice seemed to lower a notch. This caught Paige’s undivided attention.
“But what?” Paige said.
“We did find this.” He pulled out a plastic Ziploc baggie that had a cell phone in it.
“That’s Norman’s phone.” Paige got excited. It wasn’t Norman, but it was a possession of Norman’s. That’s all Paige would have left of him anymore: possessions and memories.
“Yes, it is,” the officer confirmed. “When we found it there was a recently typed text. He hadn’t had a chance to send it yet, but more than likely he was responding to a text that had just been sent to him. And according to the time the text was sent and the time the nine-one-one calls started coming in, we believe that texting while driving was the cause of the accident.”
“No! Can’t be possible,” Paige said. “Norman never texted and drove. In all my times of riding with him, I never once saw him text and drive.”
The police officer wasn’t going to argue with Paige in her emotional state. She’d just suffered a major loss. Instead, he held out the bag to her. He hit a button and the screen lit up. Paige looked down to see the text Norman had typed but had not yet sent. Her name appeared in the “to” box.
I’m in love with you t
Paige couldn’t believe she was sitting in the front pew of New Day Temple of Faith staring at her husband lying dead in a casket. Little Adele lay asleep in her arms. Every now and then her tiny mouth would form into a smile, then a frown, and then a smile again. Paige imagined she was seeing an angel, perhaps Norman. And just maybe every time Norman tried to go away Adele would get upset, and, to appease her, he’d return. Would that be how Paige’s own dreams would play out from now on?
Weeping sounds began to flow from Paige’s throat as her body began to heave.
“Let me take the baby,” Samantha insisted as she wiped tears of her own and then took Adele from Paige’s arms. She kissed her niece right beside her lips, causing the little infant’s smile to spread wide. Samantha, too, took it as a sign that her brother had made it to heaven and was now an angel watching over his baby girl. He was now an angel in heaven looking out for the little girl he’d vowed to sacrifice his life for, in not just words, but in action and deed.
Paige sat there numb as people viewed Norman’s body in the casket and then came over to her and Norman’s family to give their condolences. All Paige could do was nod and accept their hugs and kisses to the cheek. She couldn’t even speak. God only knows what would have come out had she been able to speak. She was so angry that every time things looked as though they were falling into place, the devil would come over and flip the puzzle over, destroying the almost perfectly put together picture. She was tired of it. She was sick and tired. She was sick and tired and outright mad!
Where was God during all this craziness? Come to think of it, perhaps it was because of God she was even dealing with all this craziness. Her life seemed less traumatic before she got saved. The devil wasn’t messing with her at all because he already had her. There was no threat. It’s kind of like that deranged ex: they deal with the breakup until they find out there is somebody else in your life and then they absolutely lose it, trying to do any-and everything to win you back. Paige was seriously contemplating getting back with the ex if it meant he’d lay off.
“I’m so sorry about your loss. May God bless you.”
“Norman was such a good man.”
“God is going to pull you through. He’s a comforter.”
After about a couple dozen more sentiments somewhere along those lines, the funeral service started. Paige’s body was present, but not her mind. Afterward, she couldn’t even remember what song the choir sang, or what the five people who wanted to speak final words about Norman said. Had the obituary been read out loud or had the guests been asked to read it silently on their own? Did Pastor Margie get many Amens when she gave the eulogy? Paige was oblivious to all of this. She’d just sat there as if she was watching somebody else’s life and not living her own.
“Come on, Paige honey.”
When Paige looked up and saw her father extending his hand to her in order to help her up off the pew, she figured the service must be over. That was confirmed when Paige looked up and saw that the casket was long gone. When had they closed it? When had
they wheeled it out? Paige watched as several people volunteered to remove the flower arrangements from the sanctuary and carry them outside to be transported to the burial site.
Mr. Robinson helped his daughter up and escorted her out to one of two limos, the one that was assigned to take them to the cemetery for the burial. This was too much for Paige. She thought she was going to pass out like she’d done back at the hospital. If she could, she would have ordered the driver to just take her home so she could crawl into the bed and bury her head under the pillow. The rest of the world could go on and do whatever they wanted if they so chose, but that wasn’t her choice. But then she’d remember there was Adele. She had a daughter she had to be strong for, who she had to live for. So throwing in the towel wasn’t an option. She’d have to bear with the remainder of the day’s events at least.
Once they arrived at the cemetery, everyone gathered around the casket that appeared to be levitating over a hole six feet deep. Pastor Margie spoke a few more words before the service was concluded and people were invited back to the Vanderdale home for the repast.
“How you holding up?” Mrs. Robinson asked as they rode silently in the limo. Mr. and Mrs. Vanderdale rode cuddled up with one another. Samantha sat next to Adele, who was in her car seat, while Paige sat sandwiched in between her parents.
Paige couldn’t even respond to her mother. All she could do was just shake her head. She was weak and in a daze. She could barely hold her head up the same way she could barely hold her daughter earlier during the funeral. She could barely walk without the support of others. She was in total disbelief that this was her life. She was in total disbelief that she’d waited what seemed like forever for her and Norman to finally be headed down the same road together, sharing the same sentiments toward one another, which was absolutely true love that had been a long time coming. It was right there up under her nose like a steak to a hungry bum on the street who hadn’t eaten in days. The bum had the decency to close his eyes and say a prayer, blessing and thanking God for the steak, then when he opened his eyes, the steak was gone. That was the thanks the bum got for blessing and thanking God? That described to a tee how Paige was feeling.
Every time she decided that God might be this okay dude after all, He’d show His true self or He’d not show up at all. She was tired of the relationship and just as soon as she was able to get some clarity, she would have to reevaluate whether she wanted to continue the relationship at all. The on-again/off-again thing was about to send her to the looney bin.
“I know it must be hard,” Mrs. Robinson said when Paige didn’t reply to her initial inquiry. She could tell how her daughter was doing just by looking at her: not well at all. She tried to find some comforting words. “Even though you and Norman hadn’t even been married for a year, you two had been friends for years. Good friends. Everybody knows that. Everybody knows how hard this must be for you. But you will make it. You have a whole team of supporters here for you.”
Once again, all Paige could ask herself was where was the captain of this so-called team? Where was God? Everybody else always seemed to be around, but where was God? Especially when all this bad stuff happened in her life. Why can’t He be there to stop it all? To just stop it? All the pain? All the hurt? Yet He just keeps sitting idly by watching it pile on and on like a pyramid. A pyramid that is about to crumble any day.
Paige rode in silence all the way to her in-laws’ house, where tons of cars were already parked upon the limo’s arrival. The limo driver parked at the front door and then walked around to let them out of the car. Miss Nettie stood at the door, holding it wide open for all to enter. She’d attended the funeral but passed on the burial in order to get home and make sure everything was in order and to greet the guests.
“Thank you, Nettie,” Mr. Vanderdale said, the first one to enter the house.
Miss Nettie nodded at everyone but spoke to Paige. “How you holding up, dear?”
Paige just looked into Miss Nettie’s eyes and shook her head. It showed; she wasn’t holding up too well at all.
“Looks like you might need to lie down and rest for a spell. It ain’t about entertaining folks. They here to pay their respects and that’s fine, but if you don’t take care of yourself, keep your body and mind right, then what good are you going to be for that little girl?” Miss Nettie nodded toward Adele, who was being removed from her little car seat bucket-style carrier by Samantha.
Mrs. Robinson looked to her daughter. “Is that what you want to do, Paige? Do you want to go get some rest? You do need to eat though, but I’m sure we can bring a plate of food to you.”
“Yes, I’d like to lie down, but I’m not hungry though.” Paige’s throat was scratchy and dry.
“Nettie, can you lead Paige to the yellow guest room, please?” Mrs. Vanderdale asked. “Samantha and the rest of us will tend to Adele. She’s probably about ready to go down for a nap as well.”
“Sure, Mrs. Vanderdale.” Miss Nettie took Paige by the arm. “Come on, baby.” She led her up the stairwell.
Once Paige reached the top step, she was in awe of the long hallway. Straight ahead she could see a circular veranda through a set of double French doors. She’d never been given a tour of the home, but even from the outside she could tell it was a magnificent dwelling. Right now wasn’t the time to take an official tour though. She just wanted to dive into the nearest bed.
Well, Miss Nettie didn’t take her to the nearest bed. They passed at least four bedrooms before Nettie finally opened the door to a room that had yellow walls and a gold-painted ceiling. A white canopy bed sat to the left with the head rails against the wall, while about fifteen to twenty feet straight across was a private veranda that could only be entered by way of that room. There was a white dresser and a white chest that matched the two white nightstands that rested on each side of the bed.
“That right there is the bathroom.” Miss Nettie pointed to one of two other doors.
“What’s that room?” Paige pointed to the other door.
“Oh, that’s just the closet. If you want to put on something more comfy than that dress and heels you’re wearing, I’m sure there is a guest robe and slippers or something in there that will suit you.” Miss Nettie walked over to the queen-sized bed and pulled back the yellow coverlet trimmed in lace.
“Thank you, Miss Nettie,” Paige said as she kicked off her heels and sat on the bed.
“There’s the remote if you feel like watching a little television.” She pointed to the nightstand where a remote control for the television rested.
“No, I just want to lie here and rest my eyes for a minute. Please let everyone know I’ll be down within an hour. I just need a moment.”
“Well, you take all the time you need. I’m sure everyone understands.” Miss Nettie headed over to the door.
“Thank you, Miss Nettie.”
Miss Nettie just smiled and nodded, and went to close the door behind her.
Paige closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Miss Nettie was standing next to her with a tray of food.
“Figure I’d bring you up a bite to eat since you never came down.”
Paige sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What do you mean? I just got up here.”
Miss Nettie chuckled. “Child, you been sleep for three hours. The house is clear. Your parents said they’d call you in the morning.”
“Where’s—”
“She’s sleeping sound in her nursery.” Miss Nettie responded to Paige’s inquiry about baby Adele’s whereabouts before Paige could even finish it.
“Her nursery?” Paige had a confused look on her face. The only nursery she knew of Adele having was at their apartment. “She’s home?” Paige sat up in worry. “Who’s with her?”
“Now just calm yourself down.” Miss Nettie set the tray down on the bed. “She’s right in the room across the hall.”
Paige still gave Nettie a concerned look.
“Come on and take a peek. Settl
e your nerves so you can get some food in you.”
Paige stood up and followed Miss Nettie straight across the hall. Miss Nettie opened the door to a room half the size of the one Paige had slept in, but elegant and beautifully decorated nonetheless.
“Wow,” Paige couldn’t help but exclaim once she walked into the room with a white ceiling and soft pink walls. A beautiful canopy crib draped in pink and white sheers sat in the middle of the room. There was a wooden rocking horse, and an oversized rocking chair with padding and pillows. There was a pink chest and matching toy chest. The carpet was a thick, plushy white. Paige felt as if she were walking on marshmallows. On the rear wall was a painted portrait of Norman, Adele’s newborn picture, and a portrait of Paige. “How? When?” She was at a true loss for words.
“Mrs. Vanderdale had it done,” Miss Nettie told her.
“That’s my Facebook profile picture,” Paige said, fascinated as she pointed to her painted portrait. “I don’t understand.” She continued to look around. “They did all this knowing that Adele really isn’t even their . . .”
“Isn’t really their what?” Miss Nettie pressed while walking over to Paige. “Go ahead; Adele isn’t even their what?”
Paige swallowed and practically choked on her words.
“Umm hmmm, ’cause you better not think of fixing your mouth to say what I think you were going to say.”
Paige felt convicted enough, but that didn’t stop Miss Nettie from making her feel even worse.
“You and Norman done came up with this bright idea involving that baby. The man signed the birth certificate and everything. Wasn’t your goal for Adele to be his? For Adele to be theirs? Isn’t that what you wanted the family to accept? Well, missy, that’s exactly what happened. So now that Norman is gone, don’t you dare . . .” Miss Nettie couldn’t even get her last words out, her lip was trembling so much, as well as the finger she was pointing in Paige’s face.