Tragic Renewal

by Marlina Williams

  After washing the non-grime down the drain she proceeded to dig through the bag to find her dinner. When she inventoried her purchases she had a stern lecture with herself on poor choices in food. It was one more thing she would be fixing in her new life quest, but for tonight she’d eat like a junk food junkie one last time. After a bag of Doritos, large Pepsi, a plastic wrapped burrito, and a king sized Snickers for dessert she was satisfied.

  She settled back on the creaky bed with a pile of thin pillows behind her head. A slight musty odor permeated the room, but the bedding seemed clean with a starched stiffness that at least suggested recent cleanliness. Remote in hand she pushed the power button. The red TV light blinked twice then winked out. She pressed it again with the same result. Rather than get aggravated with it she rolled from the bed and walked to the TV, feeling around the edges until she found a power button. It came to life with a blast of raucous noise. It was tuned to HBO and an old movie she didn’t recognize popped up on the screen.

  Uncaring of what the movie was about she crawled back into bed with its creaks and squeaks singing to her as she got comfortable. The thin blanket was enough to keep her from shivering in the cool room. Her eyes gazed unseeing at the screen as her lids grew heavy. Her last thoughts before she drifted to sleep with the TV blaring and lights on, was that Scott would never allow such things.

  His house rules were anal to a fault, and he expected her to follow whatever ridiculous edict he laid out. Lying in bed with the TV on was a foot stomping no-no. When she suggested they install one in their bedroom, his face bubbled with a red-fury because she even dared to question his authority on the matter. The part she never told him was she only suggested it out of curiosity of his reaction. Scott, being an Air Force officer, was used to getting his way and not having peons question his authority. During his fit she had snapped to attention and saluted, yelling “Sir, yes Sir”. He didn’t find it funny and stormed from the house staying gone for two days. That was the first time she realized he had someone on the side. Someone he could run to who would obey his commands. She spent those two days wallowing in self-pity, blaming her traitorous womb, that exactly one month before had expelled their first born son too soon. They laid little Sammy to rest, and Scott became a man on a mission to assuage his suffering in the arms of other women.

  At the time she questioned if she was to blame for his indiscretion. A year passed before she got pregnant again. They were living in a new town and had found a modicum of happiness and accepted the death of their son. Both were ecstatic but cautious as they looked forward to their future child. It all came crashing down again. With an impending sense of Déjà vu they rushed to the hospital. Bryson was laid to rest shortly thereafter. The pattern continued with the next pregnancy when Caleb entered and left the world too soon. With the finality of another baby lost Harper had her tubes tied, ensuring she would not go through this particular hell again.

  Scott’s indiscretions escalated until he was out of control. Harper’s confidence in saving their marriage shattered like a webbed windshield. The cracks started deep and made their torturous way to the surface. The ugly fate of their marriage and loss of their children drove her to find comfort in food and wine. On their nineteenth anniversary she knew there was no turning back, no amount of gorilla glue to reattach the fragile crushed shell that used to encompass them. Scott spent that anniversary at his latest girlfriend’s house, no longer trying to hide, not caring if Harper told his commander. Scott was above reproach in his own mind. He would retire in less than a year, ensuring no military punishment for his philandering ways.

  Harper spent her nineteenth anniversary on the phone with Cara. Her heart tried to rip through her chest as she agonized over what to do. They had moved to Mississippi, she was out a job with no income of her own, while Scott was busy poking everything that looked female. Cara helped open her eyes that day. When Harper hung up she had a new determination to hang on for one more year, hang on until she was guaranteed half of Scott’s retirement.

  At first the plan was delicious but devious, over time she enjoyed the small yet monumental control. Scott had used her for all those years while she followed him from base to base being the good little wife. She never aired their personal problems publicly. Everyone saw a marriage surviving through unspeakable tragedy. Harper never knew how Scott avoided getting caught cheating, how he kept the women he bedded happy and none ever turned on him. None had even tried to contact her. It stopped mattering to her over time.

  With a goal in sight she looked forward to the day she could be free of this man she used to love with her entire being. The final year of their marriage slowed to a crawl as she counted down the days. He slept in the spare room and they never touched. The thought of ever touching him again made her skin prickle. Her forgiveness quotient was tapped out years before.

  They drove together to the courthouse to finalize their divorce, even though they already lived separate lives. She had moved out of their shared residence several months before as they waited the requisite time for the judge to say they were officially divorced. Though neither made any proclamation of future friendship they chose a façade of one for the final hooray. On the return trip to their divided homes Scott told Harper about Isabella and the pregnancy. Harper thought she was okay until that final cruel blow. Her heart squeezed in agony, her breath shortened, and her body became clammy at the news. In all her imaginings she forgot to factor in Scott still being able to have a child while she lived her life in a barren field of solitude.

  The demons had eaten their fill of matrimony as the door slammed shut with the finality of dissolution and the trench that now ran through Harper’s core. She would be forever changed with little to show for the life she’d already lived.

  Six

  Harper slammed the passenger door shut after tossing her suitcase on the seat. She hurried to the driver’s door anxious to get out of the brisk morning air. A heavy fog encased the landscape in a chilly dew and sprinkled her car’s red exterior in a sheen of fine droplets. She rubbed her hands together as she waited for the car to warm up, regretting not starting it earlier.

  Moving to a cooler climate would take some time to get used to, no more flip flops in February. She wiggled her toes, safe and warm encased in socks and sneakers. The warmth began to permeate the car after a few minutes. With a sigh she backed from the parking spot and pulled from Dusty’s Sleep Shack, relieved to leave it behind. She gave a short wave to the manager’s office as she drove by, on the off chance that Dusty was around. The office had been empty when she went to check out. Her Room 5 key now rested somewhere on the bottom of the early checkout drop box.

  The tires chirped on damp pavement as she left the parking lot and turned left, heading back to I-55 North. Before long the sun burned off the remaining fog and she was able to increase her speed. With luck she would arrive at Smoth and Associates sometime around noon. After she met with them she would decide what her next step would be.

  She tugged her sunglasses from their holder on the visor and slid them on. Once her cool quotient got a small boost she cranked up the radio and gave a repeat performance of the day before. Her hands drummed the wheel as the miles flew by under her trusty chariot carrying her to a whole new life. Winter bare farm fields and an occasional patch of dirty snow flashed by as she drove farther north. The radio began to cut out losing reception in the long stretches of lightly populated towns. She reached over and flipped it off, content to let her own thoughts room to breathe without distraction.

  Cara’s face bubbled into her mind. Harper fought the memories nibbling on her mind. She wasn’t ready to envision Cara and the pain surrounding her death. Thoughts continued to filter into consciousness as though they came from a bubble bar in a fish tank. A fine curtain of tiny memories filtered in without her permission before she had a chance to fight off the tenacious reminiscence they were there beyond her control.

  ***

  Harper walked a speed wal
ker’s pace, her bent arms swinging the small weights gripped in her hands. Legs stretched to their full extension as her hips popped with the force of each step. She passed other walkers, as though they were out for a Sunday stroll, on the macadam walking track. The morning air was frigid and her breath huffed out with each exhalation. Her trim body struggled with the punishing final lap of her daily routine.

  Each morning after Scott left for work she made her way to Otter Lake for a speed walking session. New snow covered the small lake’s icy surface in a downy layer of soft sugar-like crystals. The city kept the popular walking track clear for those crazy people, like her, that found the need to exercise even in the most extreme weather.

  Her breath fogged back into her face as a brisk shot of wind found it and flung it back at her. She wiped her hand over the moisture and as she did a person sitting on one of the benches caught her attention. The person, whom she couldn’t quite identify as male or female, sat hunched over. He or she was wearing a thick black winter coat with the fur lined hood snugged tight over an obscured head. Harper stopped, something about the form called to her. She made her cautious way closer. Her ears perked as sobs drifted toward her eliminating her doubt as to the sex of the person. The woman was sobbing, a fierce pathetic squeak that broke Harper’s heart.

  Harper sidled closer, unsure how the woman would react to an unexpected intrusion. She announced her presence in an attempt to keep from startling her. “Excuse me. Are you okay?”

  The woman jumped then scrambled to wipe her face before turning to Harper.

  Harper drew in a sharp breath. Even in her obvious distress the woman, a very young woman, was beautiful. Her tears had magnified the clear blue of her eyes and the cold air accentuated a light dusting of freckles. The fur lined hood covered her hair, but Harper guessed it must be a light blond if it matched her eyebrows.

  “I’m not okay, but I will be. I’ve had a really rough morning.”

  “Do you need someone to talk to? I’m Harper, by the way,” she said, as she reached her gloved hand toward the seated woman.

  “Nice to meet you, Harper, I really like that name by the way. I’m Cara.” She grasped Harper’s hand with a fierce double handed grip, tight even through two layers of gloves.

  “Thanks, my mom is a big Valerie Harper fan, so much so she gave me her name. Last Christmas I got her the entire seven season set of Mary Tyler Moore shows. Mom delayed Christmas dinner so she could watch the entire first season without interruption. Sorry, I’m talking too much. Nice to meet you, Cara. Wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

  Cara’s head hung as she considered. “I could use a friend right now. Feel like walking over to the coffee shop over on Central so we can get out of the cold?” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Sorry, I’m assuming you have time to listen to a stranger spill her guts.”

  Harper smiled. “The good news for you is that I’m a great listener, and I have nowhere to be this morning. A cup of coffee will really hit the spot right now.”

  They spent two hours in the coffee shop, the delicious aromas of fresh baked goods, coffee, and cinnamon swirled through the homey atmosphere. Harper listened without interruption as Cara spilled her pain.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell my family that I’m gay. I’ve known since I was much younger, but have been in denial. They are ultra-conservative and are openly against gays, but I hoped my admission would change their minds.” She paused and drew a deep gulp of hot coffee. Her hands shook as she brought the heavy mug to her lips. Fine blond hair stuck up in static raised clumps from when she pushed her hood down and removed her coat. Harper wanted to straighten it but left it alone.

  Early that morning Cara finally found the nerve to tell her family she was gay. On the way to her parents’ she stopped and picked up fresh cinnamon rolls from the Cinna Monster on 3rd Avenue. A tradition in their family included celebrating special occasions with cinnamon rolls.

  ***

  Cara walked through the front door bringing a blast of frigid air with her.

  “Mom, Dad, Christy, I’m home and I have a surprise.”

  A family of early risers her mom, dad, and sister sat around the kitchen table. The enticing aroma of coffee wafted to her nose as she entered the kitchen holding the Cinna Monster box.

  “Morning sweetie.” Cara’s mom rushed to her and enveloped her in a tight hug. “Where’ve you been, we haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  “You know, around.” Cara gave a nonchalant shrug.

  Christy rushed to Cara, leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, all while stealthily wiggling their breakfast treats from Cara’s hands. Cara and her seventeen year old sister, Christy, were replicas of their mom, Denise. “So, sis, what’s the special occasion anyway?”

  “How about we eat first then I’ll tell you.” Cara’s hands were beginning to sweat and dampness soaked her armpits. Her fear and insecurities were causing her to become tense. She sensed a headache trying to squirm its way into her temple. She pressed her fingers into her temples and rubbed trying to stamp it out before it took hold. No one noticed her discomfort as they were all busy grabbing rolls from the box.

  Cara dug through the upper cabinet and found a glass for milk forgoing coffee, unwilling to add any more fidgety energy to her already amped up mind.

  They ate the entire box of rolls, then proceeded to groan about how full they were. Cara smiled at the requisite groans, a familiar routine giving her a small measure of comfort to bolster her for what she was waiting to tell them. “Alright guys, here goes.”

  They watched her waiting for happy news. Her parents had been hounding her to find a boyfriend, they all expected the news she was holding would include a man.

  Cara gulped, trying to swallow the tennis ball sized lump now stuck in her throat. She tossed the rest of the milk back like she was taking a shot.

  She looked to each of their faces. Her mom a slightly weathered version of her and her sister a teenage version, it was like seeing older and younger pictures of the same person. Her dad with his brown hair and hazel eyes had missed his mark in the gene pool with his daughters.

  As they began getting impatient with the wait, she blurted it out. “I’m gay, that’s my news.”

  Air rushed from the room in a vortex of silence. The clock on the wall, a sledgehammer against rock. Tick, tick, tick, tick. An eternity passed before anyone spoke.

  Her dad, in a calm tone and low voice said. “Get out of my house and don’t ever come back. We raised you right, how dare you bring that vile, evil stuff into our home.”

  “Dad.” Cara whispered his name. She knew when he said something there was no turning back, he’d never changed his mind about anything in all her memories growing up.

  Her head swiveled left as she tried to catch her mom or sister’s eyes. Neither would look at her. Both kept their heads down, even as tears streamed from their eyes. Cara ran from the house and never looked back.

  ***

  Harper reached across the table to grasp Cara’s trembling hands, feeling a deep bond with this veritable stranger.

  “I ran to the park where you found me, my car is still at their house and I’m afraid to go back for it.”

  Harper sat in stunned silence knowing she heard the abbreviated version of the story. Her imagination filled in the blanks with all the things Cara didn’t say. She was unable to comprehend how a parent could be so cruel. Her heart ripped for Cara, it bled tears of sympathy for the discarded girl that sat across from her. “I know this is inadequate for what you went through, but is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Sit here and talk to me for a while longer, then give me a ride over there so I can get my car. After that I won’t be returning.”

  “There’s no chance he’ll change his mind?”

  Cara’s eyes welled with briny tears pooling on her lower lids, when she shook her head a single tear broke from its dam and made its salty way down her cheek.
“He won’t change his mind. When his mind is made up he never changes it. My family now considers me dead, and I will remain that way. Right now Mom is probably ridding the house of any evidence of a child gone wrong.”

  A tear streaked down Harper’s face at the bittersweet memory of the start of her and Cara’s friendship. Fate helped them find each other that day, and their bond grew with each day that followed. Through breakups, miscarriages, and infidelity each always stood as the one person the other could turn to without judgment.

  An announcement from her phone’s GPS, pulled her back to the task at hand. At least an hour had passed while she was lost in the deep well that was Cara.

  “In one mile take Exit 150, on right.”

  Seven

  Harper chewed her bottom lip in a fierce dissection of movement in an effort to distract herself from the intersection as she passed through. A few stray crumbles of glass lay next to the curb, and a small memorial with faded flowers stood in front of the library. 5th and Main would be forever burned into her memory as the intersection from hell, the place that stole her best friend. The few seconds it took for the light to change were tortuous. She kept her eyes straight forward, but her peripheral vision refused to ignore the leftover signs of the tragedy that befell this small town.

  Her breath burst with rapid fire exhalation as the light turned green and she could move from the visions that raced through her head. If she stayed in this town, she would find a way to avoid ever crossing 5th and Main again. As she entered the round about that represented the center of town she spotted the store front sign for Smoth and Associates. The small town vibe of the unassuming store front gave her a sense of unexplainable comfort knowing this was the place Cara chose to follow her dreams.